


Dragon and Direwolf

by ChiliMT



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Romance, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2018-12-24 23:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 70,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12023763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiliMT/pseuds/ChiliMT
Summary: Retelling of Jon and Dany story from season 7 upwards. This is strictly Jonerys. Disclamer: no copyright infringement intended all characters belong to HBO and obviously GRRM





	1. Dragonstone

Dragonstone

 

**_Daenerys_ **

She was home. She should have been happy. She felt like neither was true. Determined as far as her purpose in life was concerned, yet wary of surroundings. For now she only listened to people, she felt impatient because this was not how she imagined her homecoming would be. She tries to be patient but it wears very thin.

The only thing that aroused her natural curiosity was a mysterious visit from a mysterious red priestess. For some reason the priestess urged her to summon a Jon Snow, who apparently calls himself a King in the North.

She was hopeful when he answered the call. It seemed like he was ready to acknowledge her as the rightful queen of Seven Kingdoms and yet here he is, stubborn, arrogant and haughty.

She really tried to be diplomatic, in good faith she begged the forgiveness for the awful deeds her father did to the Starks. He seems surprised by this but remains unbent. He cleverly saw through her plans to conquer Westeros in a different way to her ancestors. But he still insists that his purpose is more important. He is telling her of some Army of the Dead. Her children are magical but dragons disappeared from the face of the earth relatively not long ago. She always thought of all those stories she read in the books given to her by Jorah as a wedding present about White Walkers or Children of the Forest as mere flights of fancy, myths and legends. And now Jon Snow claims he had seen them. Does he only want to scare her, distract her?

Tyrion is silent, so she decides to explain to this Northern savage who she really is.  She steps down to his level to get the message through. He listens to her intently but still refuses to bend the knee. She watches him very carefully, every gesture, every look, every grimace on his face. It is a handsome face, a face of an honest and honourable man, he is uncomfortable with praises, he is not vain and full of self-importance yet he stands his ground. He meets her gaze steadfastly. Almost incidentally she notices his eyes. Warm yet steely. She is almost hypnotised by them.

Ser Davos is stopped by him when it is mentioned that he took the knife to his heart for his people. That intrigues her. There is a mystery there. She thinks she can read people very easily. This simple Northerner should not be a problem and yet he is.

When Tyrion urges him to kneel and pledge his sword to her cause, he loses his temper, something that she thinks is his weakness, “And why would I do that?” he says in a raised voice. “I mean no offence, ‘Your Grace’, but I don’t know you. As far as I can tell, your claim to the throne rests entirely on your father’s name, and my own father fought to overthrow the Mad King. The lords of the North placed their trust in me to lead them, and I will continue to do so, as well as I can.” She thinks it is a good speech, even if his ‘your grace’ was said mockingly, she appreciates his connection with his people but this conversation leads them nowhere nearer to her target. And she feels she needs to know more about this stubborn man.

She heard only good things about him from Tyrion although apparently not enough about the current situation. She makes a mental note to point it out to Varys.

As if reading her thoughts Varys enters the hall, rushes in her direction and quietly whispers to her that he has grave news. She almost froze but managed to get her composure back. She decided to leave things as they are. For now.

She turned her back on her guests and slowly walked back to her throne, indicating the end of the meeting. His voice stops her in her tracks.

“Am I your prisoner?” he asks. She is startled by his straightforwardness but not surprised. She does not respond for a moment. Then she half turns to him. “Not yet.”

 

**_Jon_ **

The sense of duty was always the strongest emotion he ever felt. Duty to his family, to the North, to his Brothers of the Night’s Watch, to his friends, to his people. If anyone told him a year or two ago what was going to happen to him, he would probably laugh. It all seems like a blur as the events rushed at him and put him in a spin from which he cannot free himself. And now the King in the North went south. It never bodes well. Everyone seems to be telling him this. Sometimes he doubts if his decisions dictated by his sense of duty are the right ones. Once he was convinced that they were, and then he got murdered.

He was uneasy when he saw the contours of the Dragonstone on the horizon, he felt something he just could not explain. Some relief came when he met Tyrion, all the memories from more innocent times came back like a wave.

Suddenly he saw them. Dragons, for gods’ sake. Dragons! One flew over him and gave him a fright but it was quickly replaced by a sheer amazement and fascination. Only Davos and he dropped to the ground. All the others never even flinched, as if seeing a huge, menacing dragon flying over your head was the most natural thing in the world. He was aware of Daenerys Targaryen having them, but hearing about the dragons and seeing them are two different things.

He did not know what he really expected. The thought of Daenerys Targaryen as an actual person had not even crossed his mind. The fight against the White Walkers was of the utmost importance to him, all other aspects of life eluded him. But then he met the Mother of Dragons. Their mother took his breath away as much as the dragons themselves.

He had seen his share of pretty women, even with his limited experience, but he had never seen an absolute beauty. Skin like alabaster, eyes like pools of crystal clear water, cascades of silver hair, inviting lips. She was tiny, yet perfectly proportioned. His heart has skipped a beat. As he took it all in, deep down he had to admit that he was intimidated. After the tirade of her titles, Davos just presented him as Jon Snow, the King in the North. He felt a bit foolish but there it was, all he was.

Her voice was pleasant and her smile was sincere, so he melted a little and offered a small smile himself. However, after the short interaction between her and Davos, the quiet annoyance started to raise in him. There she is, privileged, spoilt and arrogant girl who demands the absolute obeisance. She surprised him by admitting the evil of her own father, he would never thought this haughty queen was capable of that. And again he appreciates her honesty in admitting her hard past, for a moment he even felt a pang of pity when she mentioned rape, as he was reminded of Sansa, but part of him did not believe it; surely her life was not that hard. He is angry with himself now. He let himself be dazed and forgot his purpose.

It was hard for him to held her gaze at times but he steeled himself not to show frailty. He was thankful for Davos’s interference but was forced to stop him when he mentioned the knife to his heart, it was not the time to talk about what happened in Castle Black.

He tries to explain to her how futile her ambitions are but he feels like he is hitting the wall of haughtiness.

He tried to be patient but it was never his strong character feature. He lost it when Tyrion joined his queen in demand for him to bend the knee and join Daenerys’s army. They were wasting his time. He made a mistake in coming over here. He tries to tell her straight what his duties to the North are and what he thinks of her. Maybe he was a bit harsh but he strongly believes in what he is saying.

She took it well, he had to admit to himself grudgingly. Her face betrayed no emotions. “That’s fair,” she replied coldly. “But it’s also fair to point out that I’m the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. By declaring himself the king of the northernmost kingdom, you are in open rebellion.”

This was a stalemate, he could not think of a good response. He came here to ask for her help and they could not be further apart at the moment. He was saved by someone entering the hall in a haste. The man whispers something into her ear, her face remains unchanged but he feels instinctively that something of importance had been said and he fears it is not good news. He rakes his brains for any instance that may be directly connected to him but then she addresses him in a pleasanter, practised voice, “You must forgive my manners. You’ll both be tired after the long journey. We’ll have baths drawn for you and supper sent to your rooms.” She then turns to the Dothraki guard and gives the command in a language he had never heard before.

He looked at Tyrion but got no response as Tyrion seemed agitated and preoccupied with his own thoughts. The meeting is finished as she turns her back on him and walks away. He is left bewildered and tries to establish if they became prisoners. ‘Not yet’ of her response sounds ominous but at the moment there is nothing he can do, so he and Davos leave the throne room escorted by silent Dothraki guards.

They lead him and Davos through this large and mostly abandoned castle. The tall Dothraki opens the door to a large, sparsely decorated room. Stannis Baratheon must have preferred the austere furnishings so he is not surprised or concerned. He slept in worse places. As Davos is lead to a different room, he is left with his thoughts. ‘It was a mistake’ he thinks. He should have listened to others discouraging him from coming here. At least he is not in a dungeon. He did not hear the key turned when the Dothraki closed the door behind him so at least there is that. He sighs heavily and sits on the bed.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

The news was depressing. Maybe she did not think the conquest would be without the obstacles but this frustrated her. She feels like she is hiding on this island when the events are happening elsewhere, the events that she neither takes part in, nor has any impact on. This is not her. She feels powerless. She tries to restrain herself but she feels the annoyance building up in her. She is alone in her bedroom looking through the windows towards the sea. She remembers how often in the hours of desperation and frustration in Pentos she looked at the same sea, but then it was with hope and dream of coming home, now she is on the other side of the Narrow Sea, and it is not as she thought it would be.

She goes to her bed. The recent losses should monopolise her thoughts, yet her mind veers towards this stubborn Northerner. Varys is slipping. How come she has never even heard of this ‘King in the North’?  She cannot reconcile what she saw in his face with this arrogant and defiant stance he has shown her.  He has lovely eyes, it was fascinating to see how warm they were and yet how quickly they gleamed of steel when he got angry. She angrily kicks the rug on her bed. She should not think of him that way, this serves no purpose. She forces herself to sleep, for a long time unsuccessfully.

 

**_Jon_ **

The morning is sunny and he sees clear blue skies. He cannot remember when he last saw such good weather. The North during the winter is not pleasant. Yesterday the hot bath and hot food in his stomach helped. He is calmer now but the pent anger and frustration still boils down there. Late evening visit from Davos did not help.

“There is probably not much sense in telling you how much we are fucked at the moment?” said Davos. Jon kept silent. What else was there to say?

The Dothraki brought his things from the ship. They have taken his ship then. Despite of what she said yesterday, he was a prisoner.

He felt he needed the fresh air to think. He put on his cloak and gingerly opened the door fully expecting the menacing Dothraki guards. There is no one in the corridor, he is confused by this and slowly leaves the room. As he walks through this enormous, eerily empty castle, he prepares himself as he expects someone will stop him any moment now.

His jaw clenches as he sees a Dothraki coming his way, but he keeps his pace and continues. A Dothraki gives him a stare but then just passes him. Leaving the corridor he walks into a sort of internal courtyard. There is a group of Dothraki here, talking loudly in their own language, laughing and busy with sharpening their curved swords. They all fall silent as soon as they notice him. He swallows hard.

“How can I go outside?” he asks. He is met with the wall of silence. It lasts uncomfortably long but then it is broken by one Dothraki, standing at the back of the courtyard, “You go this way. You go to door. Left door.”

Jon nods and slowly walks trying to follow the instructions in broken Common Tongue given by the Dothraki.

He goes to the cliff. As he suspected his ship is nowhere to be seen. He looks broodily towards the sea.

Presently he hears someone approaching, he should have known that him leaving the castle would not be unobstructed. Expecting the Dothraki, he is again a bit confused to see Tyrion. Alone.

Tyrion is trying to engage him into the conversation. But he has no time for word games and trivial conversations, he blurts out, “I’m the prisoner on this island.”  He does not really listen to Tyrion. He is angry now.

“It’s hard for me to fathom, it really is,” he says in a raised voice. “If someone told me about the White Walkers and the Night King…” he stops abruptly. He hears himself talking and he knows it sounds mad and he is convincing no one.

“You probably don’t believe me,” he says in a resigned voice.

“I do, actually,” replies Tyrion.

Somehow he cannot believe Tyrion’s words. “You didn’t before. Grumpkins and snarks, you called them. Remember?”

Tyrion admits it but explains that after he heard about them from Jeor Mormont and now from him, he chose to believe it. “I trust the eyes of an honest man more than what everybody knows.”

Tyrion’s words give Jon a bit of comfort but then it raises some other issues, “How do I convince people, who don’t know me, that the enemy they don’t believe in is coming to kill them all?”

“Good question,” replies Tyrion looking towards the sea.

“I know it is a good question, I’m looking for an answer,” Jon vents his frustration.

“People’s minds aren’t made for problems that large,” Tyrion replies calmly and goes on saying that it is more comfortable to be faced with the problem of his monstrous sister.

Jon sees that again this conversation is leading nowhere. “I need to help prepare my people for what’s coming,” he says quietly. “I can’t help them from here. I’d like to leave.”

Tyrion shakes his head and says that it is unlikely that he became the King in the North by giving up that easily.

Again Jon hardly listens to him, his thoughts are focused elsewhere. “Everyone told me to learn from my father’s mistakes. Don’t go south. Don’t answer the summons from the Mad King’s daughter, a foreign invader… And here I am, a Northern fool.”

Tyrion tells him that luckily children are not their fathers. “And sometimes there is more to Northern fools and foreign invaders than meets the eye,” he adds.

This finally caught his full attention. He listens to Tyrion explaining that Daenerys could have arrived in Westeros earlier and yet she stayed in Essos to help people and save them from terrible fate. He did not know that if he was to be honest. He knows nothing of her. Maybe he misjudged her? So he decides to listen to what Tyrion has to say about Daenerys. Tyrion encourages him to talk to some of the people she saved who are on the island right now. “While you’re our guest here, you might consider asking them what they think about the Mad King’s daughter,” Tyrion says. “She protects people from monsters, just as you do. It’s why she came here.” He explains that it is hardly probable that she would head north to fight the enemy she has not seen on a word of a man she does not know after one meeting.

Jon grudgingly has to admit that there is some truth in what Tyrion is saying, that it is not a reasonable thing to ask, he sighs inwardly as it looks like it is going to be a long negotiation, it will take time, the time he does not really have.

Frustrated, he starts to leave but is stopped by Tyrion’s question, “So, do you have anything reasonable to ask?”

He is definitely not good at these word games, he would rather have a straight question. “What do you mean?” he asks.

Tyrion sighs as if he was talking to a child, “Maybe you are a Northern fool. I’m asking if there’s something I can do to help you.”

Jon thinks for a moment. So far his mission looks like a disaster but maybe there is a way to accomplish half of it. He explains to Tyrion that they would need dragonglass to fight the White Walkers and there is a mountain of it here on Dragonstone.

Tyrion stays silent for a while. “I’ll see what I can do with this,” he says. “I’ll talk to my foreign invader,” he half smiles at Jon, “Meanwhile you should cheer up a little. There is only some amount of broody Northern fool I can take.”

Jon smiles reluctantly, he always liked Tyrion, even if he did not always appreciate his sense of humour as he should. They both turn and walk slowly back to the castle.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

In the afternoon she goes to the war room and looks again at the Aegon’s map. When she read about his conquest it all seemed so easy if bloody but now she is trapped on the island. She is doing nothing. It is hardly a conquest.

Her frustrated thoughts are interrupted by Tyrion coming in. He relates to her his conversation with Jon Snow. She trusts, likes and appreciates Tyrion but at the moment her impatience and frustration prevents her from thinking clearly. Dragonglass! What kind of insanity is this? She lost two allies and they are talking about dragonglass.

She listens quietly to Tyrion explaining his plan to steer Jon Snow into becoming their ally but soon her mind wanders. She recalls this mystery of Jon Snow taking a knife to the heart. Tyrion dismisses it as dreary Northern stories but she remains unconvinced and intrigued. One day she must ask Lord Snow what it was all about.

She is lost in thought, when she realises that Tyrion asks again if she would allow Jon Snow to mine dragonglass. “I’ll think about it.” She replies and stops Tyrion from talking with one look. She needs to be alone again, she leaves the room. She goes outside to her favourite spot from where she watches her children flying. Looking at them free and playful always calms her mind. Her solitude does not last long, however.

“Amazing thing to see!”

Jon Snow. Well, she cannot avoid him all the time. And at least there is no arrogance or anger in his voice.

“I named them for my brothers,” she offers. “Viserys and Rhaegar. They’re both gone now.” She turns towards him. “You lost two brothers as well?” She sees a cloud going over his face as he nods and looks down. At least there might be some common ground between them.

“People thought dragons were gone forever, but here they are. Perhaps we should all be examining what we think we know.” There, there is her outstretched hand towards the potential ally, Tyrion should be proud of her.

“You’ve been talking to Tyrion,” he says quietly looking towards the sea. He is not easy to talk to. He does not even look at her. What an annoying man! She promised herself to be calm but if he refuses to look at her she turns her gaze away too. She knows it is childish but she cannot help herself. Those gloomy men of the North, they are all alike, exactly as in the books.

“He is my Hand,” she tries to keep annoyance from her voice.

“He enjoys talking,” he says in his deep voice and he still does not turn to her. Ugh!

“We all enjoy what we’re good at,” again she tries to hide her annoyance.

“I don’t,” he says and she is forced by her own curiosity to look at him, lost in thought. ‘Well done, Jon Snow, you surprised me again,’ she thinks. She presumes he does not like fighting, a bit unusual for a warrior as she thinks he is, she has seen the scars on his face after all. She looks at his face very carefully. For a moment she is reminded of what Ser Barriston Selmy said about her brother she never knew. Rhaegar did not like fighting either despite being a great warrior. There is something to this Jon Snow after all. Another mystery, she sighs inwardly. ‘Why am I so bad at reading this man?’ she thinks. He stays silent and continues to stare at the sea, she feels she has to make him look at her at least.

“You know I’m not going to let Cersei stay on the Iron Throne?” she asks in frustration.

“I never expected that you would,” he finally turns and looks at her.

“And I haven’t changed my mind about which kingdoms belong to that throne?” At least now she has his full attention.

“I haven’t either,” he replies harshly, looking straight into her eyes. They have a staring contest for a moment. Both looking at each other in anger. She would have gladly continue this as she has a lot to say what she thinks about it, but for now she only glares at him and annoyingly he glares back. She knows she had made a decision already and she needs to tell him about it but he makes it so hard. Deeply frustrated she turns her gaze away from him. She tries to calm down.

She lets the silence between them, broken only by the waves hitting the beach, calm her and regain her composure.

“I will allow you to mine dragonglass and forge weapons from it,” she says finally in the most matter-of-fact tone she can muster. She cannot look at him at first, she does not trust herself enough. But she eventually raises her eyes and looks at him, noticing her words having an effect as his eyes turn to her and his body faces her again as she continues to speak, “Any resources or men you need, I will provide for you.”

He is silent for a moment, she thinks he looks surprised but finally he says a heartfelt ‘thank you’.

Well, she won that battle. And as he is silent she turns away from him, letting him know that the audience with the queen is finished. As she won, she wants to stay victorious. But for some reason he lingers and he asks if she believes him. What an annoying man indeed! Her reply is not an answer to his question but rather an order from the queen.

He finally leaves her. She is relieved but she cannot help herself, and making sure he would not notice it, she turns her head and looks after him.

That annoying, stubborn, arrogant Northern man is intriguing, she does not like being that intrigued by men, she had always read them so easily. Why is this man a problem? His face is open and honest; why does she have such problems with it? She knows his face will be bothering her again when she goes to bed as it did yesterday. She is really angry with herself.

 

**_Jon_ **

Other times it would be entertaining to listen to the stories told by Davos about his life, but not today. There is nothing for him to do here. The threat of While Walkers is hanging over him and here he is, doing absolutely nothing, trapped on an island forsaken by gods. As much as he tries not to listen to Davos, there is one story where his ears are pricked. Davos talked to Missandei; well, he could hardly talk to Dothraki, as nearly none of them speaks Common Tongue. This story is about how Daenerys got her Unsullied Army. Davos is a good storyteller and he finds it funny how Daenerys tricked the masters of Yunkai, including burning one of them.

For Jon however, there is a totally new aspect of looking at the story. It tells him that her priorities are noble as she freed the enslaved soldiers who then followed her, he presumes, out of gratitude, but still they followed her to the foreign land. Some gratitude indeed. But it also suggests that she may be mad as her father, she burned the man after all. Yet no one was enraged by it, quite contrary to it, they followed her. Is she cruel or kind, is she arrogant or determined? It bothers him. She bothers him. It annoys him more than he can acknowledge to himself.

Before he fell asleep last night, he tossed and turned in his bed as his mind kept coming back to the moment he saw her for the first time. It still takes his breath away when he thinks of it. As much as he tries, he is unable to get it all out of his mind, her eyes, her lips, her skin, her voice, her hair, her… body. Gods be good, he feels himself blushing even now. It makes him so angry that he wants to slap his own face, he should not be thinking about things like that. His purpose and his duty to the North are above all. He is angry at himself but he is angry at her for making him think about her. He needs to stop doing that, starting immediately would be the best.

“I need a walk,” he tells Davos, standing up.

“Do you want some company?” Davos asks.

“No, I have to think.”

He does not want to go to the cliff again, he does not want to chance upon Tyrion again. He needs to be alone. He chose to go to the bridge where he saw dragons for the first time, he hardly saw them since and some part of him is inexplicably drawn to the dragons.

It is just his bad luck that she is there too. Just as he thought he could stop thinking about her. She is so tiny. Her hair is positively shining in the sunset light. Well, he cannot pretend he did not see her, it would be rude if she saw him, and as much as she annoys him he came here to negotiate.

One of the dragons, a greenish one, swooped over him, the other is flying in the distance. He is breathless to see them, they are magnificent if scary as hell.

He does not want to sneak upon her. “Amazing thing to see!” he says loudly from a short distance.

Without turning to him she explains that she named them after her brothers who are dead now. And then she asks about his own brothers. His good humour just vanishes away immediately. His mind goes to Robb, butchered by the Freys and poor little Rickon who died within yards of him reaching. Wars. They are what brings unhappiness to the world. He stares at the sea but in his eyes it is armies rushing at him, and blood, and gore, and death. Wars.

She seems to be inclined to believe him, mentioning that people did not believe dragons could be real again. That is the result of her conversation with Tyrion, he presumes. He is such a good talker that maybe all is not lost yet. She says that we all enjoy things that we are good at. Well, he does not. He is tired of fighting. If he could, he would never touch the sword again.

And there she is, talking about that throne of hers again. Of course he knows she is determined to have it. That much is obvious. But same goes for him. They chose him to be the King in the North and he can see no reason for him to reject it now. Although he promised himself he would be avoiding looking at her he is facing her now. She has to understand that he is not a sheep to be ruled over that easily. She is angry, he can clearly see that. But so is he. This arrogant, stubborn, proud queen annoys him so much. He cannot remember if there was anyone who annoyed him that much throughout his whole life. Her face is full of anger; her beautiful face, her annoying face.

She turns away from him. He is so angry, he wants to say something but thinks better of it and turns away from her too. He sighs. Not even Tyrion can help this situation with all his clever talking. She is stubborn, arrogant, infuriating… He is woken from this angry inner rant by her voice. For the reasons he cannot understand, she agrees to the mining for dragonglass. He is flabbergasted when she adds that her men will help him. A warm wave rushes through him. He was just thinking those awful things about her and she just gave him the kindest gift. He felt immediately guilty. In all this, all he could say was ‘thank you’. He wanted to say more but there were such emotions running through his head that he could not think of anything more. And then she turned away from him, signalling their conversation is over.

Does it mean she believes him? Does it mean she is going to help him? Does it mean they are going to be allies?

“So you believe me then, about the Night King and the Army of the Dead?” he asks hopefully.

She does not answer immediately. He is on tenterhooks. He watches her exquisite face closely.

“You’d better get to work, Jon Snow,” she says in a cold voice.

Right, he knows he expected too much. He looks at her for a short moment but as she gives him no further sign, he walks away briskly.

The long stairs give him time to process it all. She agreed to mining but she does not believe him. So stubborn, so irritating. Not even ‘Lord Snow’, just ‘Jon Snow’. Such an annoying woman. And what annoys him more is that he is inexplicably drawn to her. Ugh, this is so exasperating.

He goes straight to Davos. On hearing good news, Davos is immediately happier. He starts to plan how they are going to organise the mining and forging weapons. “We need at least fifty men to mine it quickly and then some for weapons and we need probably more ships to transport the dragonglass that is mined, so they can start making weapons in Winterfell,” he muses. Jon smiles gently at his friend thinking aloud. They are interrupted by Missandei.

“Our Queen invites you to supper with her,” she says gently smiling.

“Tell her I will be there,” he replies quickly.

Missandei pauses, “My lord, Our Queen invites you and Ser Davos both. We will be happy to welcome you in a dining hall in an hour.”

“Of course, of course. We will be there,” he stammers. He is embarrassed especially as he sees in the corner of his eye Davos smiling very happily at him, as if he had heard the funniest of jokes.

Missandei bows and leaves them.

“You were very eager to meet her alone. Did you think it was the invitation for intimate supper?” Davos chuckles.

Jon is unable to meet his eye, “We need to change for supper,” he says quickly and even quicker leaves the room to the sound of a gentle mocking laugh from Davos.


	2. Cave

Cave

 

**_Daenerys_ **

Last week was not an easy time. The loss of two allies and no news from the Unsullied. Her frustration was reaching the boiling point. Instead she tried to immerse herself in day-to-day running of things on Dragonstone, although she felt she was always in the way of Tyrion and Missandei, and they both were too polite to say so.

The evenings became more pleasant than the rest of the day. She came to like Ser Davos. Some of the stories are really amusing and the rest is interesting. Through him she learns about that side of life in Westeros that she would never read about in the books written by Maesters. He is a good company but she also sees that he is trustworthy and loyal. She understands why Jon Snow relies on him so much.

As always she is the keen observer and Jon Snow slowly becomes less of a puzzle. She grudgingly admits to herself that she can clearly see why he inspired devotion from his people. And he finally started to call her ‘your grace’ without sarcasm. She likes his honesty, openness, straightforwardness and his smile. One thing she tries to avoid is looking straight into his eyes. She feels uneasy when she does. She cannot understand why. She stopped being shy and timid long time ago. Harsh life lessons taught her that. She may be wrong but she thinks she almost caught him many times looking at her intently. She is not sure what would be the reason, he does not look at her like other men did. Either with absolute admiration or distaste. Maybe he tries to get to know her better. Well, that is all right. The allies, as she is sure they will be some day, need to know each other. Sometimes she catches herself looking at him without any purpose, she wonders how he would look without this hair bun of his. But very quickly she snaps herself back to reality. It does not help for too long as she is almost haunted by his face when she tries to sleep. Her dreams are even more disturbing.

Both Davos and Jon Snow seem happier as yesterday they finally found the place where they can mine dragonglass. And this morning she was invited to see it for herself. She hardly sees the point but as she is bored she conceded.

As they walk towards the cave, Missandei mentions the Unsullied. Daenerys is pretty sure it is not the Unsullied themselves as Grey Worm Missandei is worried about. “He will come back to you,” she tries to console her. “He’d better,” Missandei replies.

Something in her voice made her stop. She asks if anything happened.  “Many things,” Missandei replies with a mysterious smile. Now she definitely needs some details. She always saw this bond building between Missandei and Grey Worm but apparently it just got tighter. They are interrupted by Jon Snow, so she makes a mental note to ask Missandei for details later.

They walk quite a bit along the beach, finally they reach the cave and after a few steps she goes into an enormous cave that glitters in the light of the torch held by Jon Snow. She breathes heavily now as she is amazed at seeing this. Nothing like anything she has ever seen before. Now she is glad Jon Snow took her there. He sounds very happy and he is actually smiling when he says that it is all they will ever need.

As she looks on the walls of the cave in wonder, he says that there is something else he wants her to see. He gives her the torch and points at the narrow passage leading out of the cave to the smaller cave. She goes first and now she sees signs carved into the walls of the cave, hundreds of them. Her breath becomes even shorter now as she sees the history presented in a simple way but history made by the Children of the Forest thousands years ago. The stories that she read just got real. She is overwhelmed.

“They were right here, standing where we’re standing” she says under her breath. “Before there were Starks, Targaryens or Lannisters. Maybe even before there were men.”

“No,” he replies smilingly and goes further into the cave. Intrigued she follows. And then she sees the carvings of little creatures which she presumes are Children of the Forest and larger figures representing men.

“They were here together, the Children and the First Men,” he says gently.

“Doing what? Fighting each other?” she asks.

She feels he is looking at her, then he comes closer and before she has time to react he gently touches her arm and directs her to the further wall of the cave. These carvings are more disturbing. They look like walking skeletons with spears and surprising blue eyes. Is that the Army of the Dead he was talking about?

“They fought together. Against their common enemy. Despite their differences, despite their suspicions… together” he says. She knows he alludes to her and his people, she knows he emphasises ‘together’ for a reason. She finally looks at him.  She looks into his eyes she was avoiding for some time. She knows he tries to convince her that he was telling the truth. But there is no need as she knows now and believes him. There is, however, this nagging thought in her head that this is as good opportunity as ever to convince him that she is willing to help on condition that he bends the knee. A politician in her dulls the charm of his eyes and the sparking atmosphere that surrounds them, that she is not immune to. She comes closer again as in the throne hall to get her point through. This is the closest they ever stood together, and she is not remiss of noticing how beautiful he looks  but she steels herself to remind him that his pride is less important that the safety of his people.

She must have struck the chord in him as he looks at her as he had never before and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. But he did not. He looked down and did not say a word more. She is almost breathless now.

She knows that she can achieve nothing more at the moment so she steps back and hands him the torch. She does not understand why her blood is rushing through her veins and there is this strange knot in her stomach so she walks slowly back to the main cave where they left Missandei and Ser Davos.

She turns her head to check if he is following her. He is but his face looks different as if something momentous happened. She does not know what it was. He looks shaken and so is she but her years of training to look regal help her to regain her composure.

He does not look at anyone, he just walks on to the exit of the cave. There is this strange pull in her to be close to him again. She joins him in silence.

 

**_Jon_ **

The instructions he got from Sam were somewhat unclear. Ah, Sam, ‘mountain of dragonglass, near the beach, not far from the castle’. Well, the description covered a large area, especially as they were not exactly sure what they were searching for. A mountain of dragonglass. These cliffs were just cliffs, there was no actual mountain. By sheer accident Davos spotted a cave, no doubt the habit from his smuggling years, and they decided to investigate it. When they saw the dragonglass, Jon actually laughed out loud from happiness. He startled Davos, “I never thought you could laugh.”

Then he saw the carvings and his immediate thought went to Daenerys. She has to see it. They arranged to show her the cave on the next morning.

And there she is, walking slowly down the stone stairs with Missandei, followed by a bunch of morose Dothraki. She talks to Missandei and she smiles a lot. He likes her smiling, unfortunately she rarely or almost never smile at him.

Suddenly she stops. He cannot wait any longer, he is excited as a child. “Your Grace!” he prompts her. She gives him a quick look, stops the Dothraki and finally continues down. He watches her every move and nods when she reaches him. “It’s not very far,” he assures them half way. He is impatient to get to the cave, they walk too slowly for his taste.

He can clearly see and actually hear her amazement at seeing the cave. She does not gasp but she breathes heavily and in this light, surrounded by sparkling walls, she takes his breath away too. It is beyond comprehension that even though he sees her every day, each day he is almost surprised how perfect she is. He cannot take his eyes off her but he reminds himself that there is so much more to see. For her eyes only, he wants it to be special, “There is something else I want to show you, Your Grace.”

He gives her the torch, she boldly goes first. He hopes it means she trusts him now, she left her Dothraki guards behind, she left Missandei and she is alone with him. This is only the second time they are alone. When in company he often forces himself to peel his eyes off her, many times unsuccessfully, and many times he is caught by her to his embarrassment.

She sees the carvings and it is quite clear that she is fascinated by them. He is happy. She reacts almost the same way as he did when he first saw them. “Children of the Forest made these,” he says and is relieved that she does not ask him what the Children of the Forest are. She read her books, just as she was reminding him before of Torrhen Stark bending the knee for Aegon Targaryen.

“When?” she asks breathily.

“A very long time ago,” he replies.

Gone is her regal stance, she says exactly what she is thinking, impressed that they stand in the same place as the Children. She wonders if it was even before the First Men, so he shows her other carving further down the wall.

When she sees the Children and the First Men she offers her guess that maybe they were fighting each other.

She stands so close to him. He could touch her if he dared. He looks at her looking at the carving, from where he stands she looks almost unreal; when she turns to him awaiting his answer, the need to touch her even for a moment is stronger than him, he takes her arm gently and steers hers towards the carving of Others. When he touches her his heart is beating so fast and loud that he is almost sure that she can hear it.

When she sees the pictures of White Walkers he tries to say it loud and clear that they fought together against their common enemy. She looks at him now and he knows she listens very carefully to what he is saying. “And we need to do the same if we’re going to survive. ‘Cause the enemy is real. It’s always been real.”

Now when he said what he wanted to say, he awaits her judgement. She looks at him for a long while. He swallows hard. It is only her and him now, she needs to decide.

“And you say you can’t defeat them without my armies and my dragons?” she asks.

There is no time for word games, he needs to speak the truth, even if it is painful. “No, I don’t think I can.” He is at her mercy.

She steps closer to him. He is suddenly afraid but of not what she is going to say but of her being so close again and staring directly into his eyes. He holds his breath.

“I will fight for you,” she finally says. “I will fight for the North…”

The wave of emotions sweeps over him. She believed him, she will help with the fight against the White Walkers. He is trying to find the words of gratitude. He could almost kiss her now.

Then she finishes her sentence, “…when you bend the knee.”

He is crushed. He expected too much; she still does not realise how dire the situation is, his fealty is still the price for her help. He is too weakened by all those emotions within a short moment to fight her. The fight seems hopeless to him.

“My people won’t except a southern ruler,” he tries to explain gently. “Not after everything they’ve suffered.”

She comes even closer to him, he can now smell her foreign perfume, it is intoxicating and he can hardly breathe.

“They will if their king does,” she almost whispers, her voice makes him feel dizzy. “They chose you to lead them. They chose you to protect them. Isn’t their survival more important than your pride?”

It is a shock to his whole body. He recognises his own words to Mance Rayder. Words fails him and he just looks at her in astonishment.

He has to break the eye contact, he looks down. Thoughts are just buzzing in his head. He said the exact words to Mance. Mance did not bend the knee. Mance kept his honour intact. His people did not see him kneel. But Mance is dead. As many of his people.

She leaves the cave and he follows her. But he is unable to gather his thoughts. He just walks towards the exit.

She surprises him as she joins him. And they walk very close to each other, in unison, in silence. It seems strange but the thought of them walking together gives him comfort.

Only when they see Tyrion and Varys on the beach, they quickly look at each other. He thinks some bad news is coming and wonders if she thinks the same.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

Those two! They always seem to bring her bad news these days. She is furious now. How could this all happen? She had the biggest army Westeros has ever seen. She has three dragons. She has the smartest Hand of the Queen. She has the best Master of Whispers. And yet  her own army loses men for no real reason, to get an empty castle. Her fleet is attacked again. And no one notices a huge Lannister army marching through Westeros on High Garden. What is the use of Varys???

Ser Davos offers that maybe they would rather discuss the things amongst themselves. Tyrion apparently agrees but she has had enough of this. “You’ll stay!” she almost barks an order. “All my allies are gone. They’ve been taken from me while I’ve been sitting on this island.”

Tyrion tries to persuade her to commit further to the plan as this is the right plan. She nearly explodes at this. “The right plan?!” she stops and faces Tyrion. “ Your strategy has lost us Dorne, the Iron Islands and the Reach.

Tyrion mentions underestimating our enemies but she interrupts, “Our enemies? Your family, you mean. Perhaps you don’t want to hurt them after all.”

In silence that engulfed everyone, she hears her children crying in flight, she looks towards them, as do others except Tyrion, for once not looking at them admiringly.

“Enough with the clever plans,” she says. “I have three large dragons. I’m going to fly them to the Red Keep.”

Tyrion tries to intervene again but at the moment she is beyond listening to him. She needs advice. Her gaze finds Jon.

“What do you think I should do?” she asks him in a calmer voice. He tries to extricate himself from the situation, but she interrupts him, “I’m at war. I’m losing,” she says walking towards him. She asks him again. He does not reply at first. She looks at him pleadingly. He seems to understand.

“I never thought the dragons would exist again,” he says calmly after a while. “No one did. The people who follow you know that you made something impossible happen. Maybe that helps them believe you can make other impossible things happen. Build the world that is different from the shit one they’ve always known. But if you use them to melt castles and burn cities, you’re not different. You’re just more of the same.”

She knows he is right. She does not know him well but somehow she trusts him to give her a good advice. Both Jon and Tyrion react badly to her original plan. She needs to make a new plan. Herself. As she did in the past, she listened to options and she came up with a third one, her own, the one that worked.

She looks again at her children and then she walks slowly back to the castle, deep in thought, followed by others in silence.

 

**_Jon_ **

He thought previously that he had seen her angry. He had not. This is angry. She is fuming, almost screaming. Well, she is the dragon after all. She is so tiny, so delicate, yet nearly everyone trembles in fear of her. Despite the circumstances he cannot help himself admiring her spirit. He is just glad her rage is not directed at him.  Usually always in tune with other people feelings, Davos tries to make her let them leave but, oh boy, did he pick the wrong time. She orders everyone to stay.

Jon just looks at Davos as if to say ‘not a word more’, he feels very uncomfortable. It is like listening on the family quarrelling. Tyrion attempts to calm her down but he is shot down immediately and perfunctorily.

When she stops, everyone freezes; she is so ferocious that Jon even takes a step back. He understands her anger, many a time he lost his temper and he knows it is better to wait it out, as the sudden anger quickly subsides and dies down, but if you stir it up, it burns even brighter. Tyrion stirred it up. Now she is talking of burning the Red Keep. It is not going well.

Then she asks angrily, “What kind of a queen am I if I’m not willing to risk my life to fight them?”

“A smart one,” Tyrion replies.

‘Well, that’s me told, I suppose,’ Jon thinks. But he is stunned again, this is frighteningly similar to what he said to Ramsay Bolton to challenge him. And this does not escape him.

This is the third time she says almost exactly the words he had already uttered. First, in the throne hall, she asked not to be judged by the sins of her father, then she quoted him word for word in the cave, and now this. ‘Are we so alike?’ he asks himself. Well, she is definitely prettier. Even now, raging, she is beautiful, terrifying but beautiful.

Just as he thinks he might have underestimated his understanding of her anger, she startles him by directing the question at him. He quickly looks at Tyrion who is very unhappy at the moment, to put it mildly. Thus his response is partly reconciliatory, “I would never presume to…” He is interrupted by her. She walks towards him, looking very earnestly into his eyes. “What do you think I should do?” she asks again in her normal voice. This time he pays attention and he clearly sees the plea in her eyes. The thought that she even considers consulting him because she evidently trusts him, she lets him see her vulnerability, ties a knot in his stomach.

He gives her his honest opinion and even if it is essentially the same as Tyrion’s, she listens to him. He can see it, she listens very intently. She seems to accept what he is saying. She looks again towards the sea and her dragons. She looks desperate and strangely very alone. Even if he just saw her rage, his heart goes to her. He sees her dilemma. Cersei can do whatever she wants because everyone already thinks she is mad and cruel, Daenerys must find a longer route to avoid herself being judged just because her father was the Mad King.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

Tyrion was not happy with her plan but he reluctantly agreed that it is the smart way to go. She thinks he felt punished by being forced to go with the Dothraki on the ships. In a less than a week they should get to the Reach and start their pursue of Lannister forces. She looks at the ships leaving the island from her window in the War Room. She is alone. For once.

She hears the steps approaching and she sighs. Not a moment of peace. She takes a sip of her wine.

“Your Grace?” the deep voice of Jon Snow makes her turn. She is not entirely annoyed by this interruption. “The ships have left but Missandei said you were not there. Did you change your plans?” he asks gently.

“No. I’ll join them later.” She is surprised at herself that she shares the strategy with someone who is not an ally yet.

He looks like he does not understand, “You are joining them after the battle?”

“I am the battle, Jon Snow,” she says and smiles quickly seeing him speechless. “I’m flying on Drogon later.” She turns back to look at the sea. She is aware that he still stands there yet he is silent. He is looking at her, she knows it, his eyes are almost burning her skin.

“Stay safe, Your Grace,” he almost whispers and leaves the room.

Once again she turns her head to look after him.

She finds it dangerous to look into his eyes for too long.

 

**_Jon_ **

She flies away on a dragon. She flies. He looks at the quickly disappearing figure in the sky. He does not know what he was thinking earlier but when he saw her on the dragon his mouth flew open. He does not know why but he is afraid of something. Being close to her in the cave disconcerted him a lot. He thinks about her way too much. At times he seems to forget why he came here in the first place. This is dangerous, she is dangerous. He steels himself to stop thinking of her and focus on his purpose. It is quite sunny day here on Dragonstone again, and he shudders when he imagines what weather is now like at Winterfell. Sansa wrote about her plans to gather resources. He had his share of disagreements with her but now he appreciates she is there, preparing the North for the Long Night. At times he is desperate when he thinks of the things to come.

“Have you seen enough, Your Grace?” Davos asks.

“Yes, let’s go,” he replies grumpily, avoiding Davos’s smiling eyes very carefully. He is afraid that Davos sees too much.

Once again they are on the bridge as they are heading towards the cave where the mining is in full swing.

“What do you think of her?” asks Davos.

“Who?” Jon knows exactly what Davos means but he tries to deflect as much as possible. He is not a match for Davos though who sighs tiredly.

“I believe you know of whom I speak.”

“I think she has a good heart,” Jon offers.

“A good heart?” Davos challenges. “I’ve noticed you staring at her good heart.”

He likes and appreciates Davos immensely but at this moment he would have preferred Davos not being that straightforward. Especially as he just promised himself not to think of her again. “There’s not time for that,” he says brushing the stubborn thoughts aside. He cannot lie to Davos. He needs to convince Davos and mostly himself that all he thinks about is his mission. “I saw the Night King, Davos. I looked into his eyes. How many men do we have in the North to fight him? Ten thousand? Less?”

“Fewer,” corrects Davos.

“What?” he asks confused.

But Davos is already on a different or rather previous track of mind, “And speaking of good hearts, Missandei of Naath.”

Is it his imagination or Davos took an extreme liking to Missandei?

As she addresses him ‘Lord Snow’, Davos tries to correct her but he is doing it so inefficiently that Jon has to interrupt.

Then the conversation about bastards and customs ensues which he thinks it is better to interrupt again. “Why did you leave your homeland?” he asks Missandei.

She explains that she was a slave, because she was stolen from her island. Jon feels uncomfortable that he asked. As there were no slaves in Westeros for ages this concept hardly ever crossed his mind.

Unperturbed, Missandei explains that Daenerys bought her from her master and freed her. ‘She does have a good heart’ Jon thinks. He is reminded of what Tyrion said to him about her, that she protects people from monsters. He thinks that he really underestimated her. Missandei is, like the Unsullied, grateful for her freedom. Is this it? They follow her out of gratitude?

For some reason Davos challenges Missandei, implying that although she was freed, she now serves her queen now. Missandei’s reaction startles him, she is adamant in saying that she serves because she wants to serve and she believes in her queen. Surely she would prefer to go home. “And if you wanted to sail to Naath tomorrow?” he asks.

“Then she would give me a ship, and wish me good fortune,” she replies calmly.

This is all too good to be true, surely. “You believe that?” he asks incredulously.

“I know it,” Missandei replies with conviction, staring hard at Jon as if he offended her queen and she is not happy with the fact. “All of us who came with her from Essos, we believe in her. She’s not our queen because she’s the daughter of some king we never knew. She’s the queen we chose.”

Well, that is some other type of queen then. He thinks that he really does not know much about her apart from what he saw himself. This testimony of a loyal, dedicated and fierce protector of Daenerys is worth thinking about. But then he promised himself not to think about her anymore.

Not an easy task. His dreams are full of her. ‘She is your battle, Jon Snow,’ he tells himself.


	3. Blood of the Dragon

****

**Blood of the Dragon**

 

**_Daenerys_ **

It is a long flight back. When she flew over there, she had a purpose, so she did not notice the time passing. Now she was calmer, she was not exhilarated as she was after the battle of Mereen. She fought here because she had to, not that she thought the Dothraki would not win it anyway but she felt she had to be there. She needed a victory after the losses, after doing nothing for weeks and weeks; she got one but it felt different. The choices she had to take were different. Harder, even if necessary.

For some reason she wondered what Jon Snow would think about it. She could not understand why his opinion of her mattered so much. She still hopes he will be an ally but there is something more, she craves his personal approval of her. He is stubborn, broody and does not talk much. A walking mystery. He shoots down any questions regarding his past. She still knows almost nothing of him. So annoying. Most men she knew always liked to talk about themselves. He does not. And she would be happy to listen, she likes his voice, somehow it soothes her.

Strictly speaking, he is like no other man in her life. People like him, love him even as she suspects, but she sees him as a very lonely person. He wears his loneliness like a dark cloak and she would like to know what it is that he is hiding underneath. Sometimes before the sleep, she means it literally. Even in his heavy clothes she appreciates his lean and agile body... No, Daenerys Stormborn, stop! She is not going there. She thinks of him too much as it is.

She is getting close, she sees the foggy outlines of Dragonstone. She enjoys riding Drogon and she is so relieved that he is not much hurt. She was not scared for herself but rather for him, her poor baby screamed with pain when that spear hit him. His screams nearly broke her heart. Some man tried to kill her and the other tried to kill her baby, she hopes they were both fried to ashes. She gently strokes Drogon’s neck and she hears him purring in satisfaction. She smiles to herself. She sincerely hopes his wound will heal soon. She knows she should not have favourites but he is hers. She loves Viserion and Rhaegal with all her heart but there is this soft spot for Drogon. He is so much like her, independent but loyal, fierce but protective of those who are close to him.

She recalls the face of Jon Snow when he saw her mounting Drogon, it makes her smile. He must have thought her this fragile woman and there she was disproving his prejudices. Maybe she is unfair to him. Apart from those first two encounters, he has been always very gentle and respectful with her. She remembers their conversation in the cave. She feels her cheeks burning, ‘Maybe it’s this harsh wind’, she tries to deceive herself. She closes her eyes, she sees his handsome face glowing in the light of a torch, his warm eyes, his full lips. And she still feels the gentle touch on her arm as if she is branded. She was too taken aback to react at that moment. No one, absolutely no one touches her without her permission now. She bore too much of an abuse in her life to allow it now. She should have rebuked him for this familiarity but she tells herself she was distracted by the carving of White Walkers. And yet at the memory of this touch a shiver runs down her spine. ‘Oh, snap out of it, woman!’

She looks for a good place to land, suddenly she sees a lonely figure on the cliff. It is Jon Snow. Lonely again. She is surprised. These days he spends all his time in the cave. Why is he here?

In her mind she tells Drogon to land near him but not too close as not to frighten him unnecessarily. Drogon complies and they land in a safe distance, but then, unprompted, Drogon takes a couple of steps towards Jon Snow, very quickly. She tells Drogon to stop but he does not listen. At last Drogon stops in front of Jon Snow and roars at him. She is afraid now that Drogon may attack Jon. She nearly cries in her mind, ‘Don’t hurt him!’ But then she feels that Drogon is just curious so she breathes more easily.

Drogon stretches his neck towards Jon and his head is dangerously close, she cannot see what is happening. Even if her mind tells her that nothing bad is going to happen, she is terrified, but then she feels Drogon relaxing, she hears him gently purring. Drogon moves slightly, so now she can finally see and she does not know what to think about it. Jon is gently stroking Drogon’s head. Her mind is full of positive emotions felt by Drogon but she is dumbstruck. Drogon is the fiercest of her children, both Rhaegal and especially Viserion, quite unlike her brother he was named after, are gentler.

Another mystery added to Jon Snow’s mountain of secrets

She decides to dismount and as she comes closer she sees Jon’s face clearly. Jon? Where did it came from? Jon Snow, she should say. Whatever you call him, he is full of quiet admiration and his breath is shortened. He meets her eye and she just knows that he just went through a mind shattering experience. But in a good way. She smiles gently.

 

**_Jon_ **

He cannot focus. Supervising the mining does not engage his brain as much as it probably should. His thoughts wander towards her despite all his efforts. He knows she probably rode her dragon many times but he is worried. The battle is not the most pleasant experience anyone can live through. And she is tiny, fragile, alone.

From Missandei and some Dothraki he learned that they truly love her. One Dothraki was telling him a story about how she came from the fire. He was not very fluent in Common Tongue and very excitable so Jon thought that either there was some misuse of words or he was just fanciful. Yes, everyone loved and admired her but still he thought of her as a very lonely figure. Last of her family, the great Targaryens, hated, loved, vilified and admired. Before her, he met one Targaryen, Maester Aemon, who was one of the kindest and the wisest people he ever met. It is a shame that he died, Maester Aemon would have the opportunity at least to meet another Targaryen. He was sure Aemon would be proud of her.

Being Targaryen is one thing but aside from that he felt her loneliness and he was certain she did not deserve that. And there she is now, alone again. She only left this morning but he is anxious to see her back on Dragonstone as soon as possible, whole and unharmed.

He sighs with impatience. He solemnly promised himself not to think of her. He needs a distraction. He takes off his robe and gloves, grabs the pickaxe laying nearby and walks deeper into the cave. Hacking at the wall is not an easy task but he strangely enjoys it. All frustration, anxiety, worry and some quiet anger at himself is being put to good use.

He works hard for some time. Then he notices Davos in the corner of his eye, “Your Grace, your help is appreciated here but –“

“I have to do something, Davos!” he interrupts brusquely. “I didn’t mean to shout,” he checks himself.

After a pause, Davos quietly says, “I believe she is safe.”

Jon turns sharply towards Davos. “It has got nothing to do with…” he cannot finish the sentence. He feels unable to lie to Davos. Davos looks at him with surprising gentleness in his eyes but says nothing.

“I need some fresh air,” Jon says and leaves Davos, angrily grabbing his cloak and the gloves he exits the cave.

He walks aimlessly for a while, then he has an idea and quickly crosses the bridge and heads towards the cliffs. It seems like a good vantage point. He gazes intently in the direction from which he expects she should be coming. It is late afternoon, the sun is almost setting. Do dragons fly at night? But then he notices a tiny speck at the horizon, a speck that is quickly becoming larger and larger. The dragon. It must be very quick, within a couple of moments it is very close to him. He tries to see if the dragon has a rider. But only when it makes a circle over him he notices her, she does not look hurt. He sighs in relief.

And then with a great thud the dragon lands not far from him. Seven hells, it is a big fucker. He is almost breathless and now the dragon charges towards him. A thought of running quickly crosses his mind but he dismisses it even quicker. Where would he run to? How could he outrun the beast? He stands his ground even if he trembles a little. Not entirely out of fear, it is rather an exhilaration, an awe and fascination all together at once.

The roar of the dragon nearly deafens him. The beast stretches his neck and the enormous head of the dragon is right in front of him. Instinctively rather than directed by common sense, he takes off his glove and slowly reaches for the dragon’s head. He thinks of nervous horses he tried to calm down when he was young. Maybe it will work here too. Huge nostrils of the dragon quiver for a while, so Jon steels himself and gently touches the skin. A wave of sheer happiness goes through his body. The skin is rough, yet smooth, he feels the warmth of the body emanating from it. He cannot believe he is touching the dragon, an actual dragon. And it growls but not menacingly, it is a comforting sound somehow.

He was never very religious but at this moment he feels closer to the gods. He is almost tearful. Happy is much too small a word to describe what he feels now. His eyes wander to the eye of the dragon. It feels like looking into the fire. He is not afraid, he feels safe and at peace. The dragon’s eye slowly closes and opens again. In his mind Jon thinks it is a small gesture of approval.

He looks at Daenerys. Their eyes meet but he is lost for words and she looks surprised but happily surprised. She slowly dismounts the dragon, when she comes closer, the dragon gently turns his enormous head in her direction and there is this gentle growl again.

She walks briskly towards him, with a gentle smile on her lips. She is safe, she is unharmed. She is back with him.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” she asks when she reaches Jon and looks lovingly at the dragons flying away in the distance. She hears him chuckle and suggesting that he cannot agree with her on this point. She turns her head sharply and looks at him with indignation.

He quickly changes his tune and he calls her children gorgeous but at the same time he uses the word ‘beasts’. She mellows a bit at that but still feels the need to correct him, “They’re not beasts to me. No matter how big they get, or how terrifying to everyone else. They’re my children.”

They stay silent for a while. She watches the dragons with tenderness.

His voice wakes her from her reverie. He asks about the battle. When she tells him that she has now  fewer enemies than yesterday, a quick spasm goes across his face and he looks at the ground. He is clearly unhappy.

Not that she is ecstatic about it but she tries to make him understand, “We both want to help people. We can only help them from a position of strength.” She pauses. “Sometimes strength is terrible,” she adds. He walks alongside her in silence.

Looking at his face, immersed in dark thoughts, she wants to change the subject but nothing significant comes to her mind. Then she recalls what she wanted to ask him a long time ago. They are always in the company of others, so now it seems like a good time as ever. She touches his elbow slightly to make him stop and face her. She needs to see his face when she poses this question.

“When you first came here, Ser Davos said that you took a knife in the heart for the people.” She watches him intently.

He is very clearly uncomfortable with it, so he tries to convince her that Ser Davos got carried away. She thinks he is not telling her the whole truth, he wants her to think it is a joke so he smiles. But she did not watch him keenly through all those evenings they spent together not to read his emotions correctly.

“So it was a figure of speech?” she insists.

The smile disappeared and he looks at her earnestly. She thinks he is about to reply when they become aware that they are approached by some Dothraki men, it is her usual guard.

They brought someone with them who claimed to be her friend. When she sees it is Ser Jorah, her heart fills with joy. She is nearly tearful now, Ser Jorah came back. He found the cure. She is very happy now. She needed him, he was always such a support to her. A true friend, an old friend.

And that is how she introduces him to Jon Snow. She is overwhelmed with emotion and she steps forward to embrace Ser Jorah. She needs more friends and he came back. She tells the Dothraki guards that Ser Jorah is her valued guest and orders them to take him to his chambers to be fed and to repose.

“You must tell me everything that happened to you,” she addresses Ser Jorah. “I hope you will be refreshed enough for the supper.” She is all smiles. It turns out to be a good day after all.

 

**_Jon_ **

She smiles at him and then turns her head to look at the dragons flying in the distance, she says that they are beautiful. He chuckles. “Wasn’t the word I was thinking of but…” he looks at her and sees she is offended. That was not his intention. And that look she gives him, he quickly checks himself, “…Yes, they are.” He makes the mental note not to criticise them in front of the Mother of Dragons.

“Gorgeous beasts,” he assures her. Her face softens at it and she explains that she does not consider them as beasts. They are her children. He understands why she is so protective of them. She made them happen. An absolute magic as far as he sees it.

She is looking at dragons again with such a tenderness on her face that he just stares at her unabashedly, as always mesmerised by her. He wishes he could just look at her and forget about all the problems in the world. He would be happy just to be able to look at her. But the reality kicks in and he wakes himself abruptly from this unreal dream.

“You weren’t gone long,” he offers as a change of subject. Since she is back and in a calm mood, he surmises the battle was successful. He wants to know the details. Her quick ‘no’ deprives him of them. She does not look ecstatic as one would presume others do after a victorious battle, maybe she is not entirely happy with the result?

“And?” he presses her quietly.

“And I have fewer enemies today than I had yesterday,” she replies calmly. So she has her victory. He does not know what to think about it. Presumably he is glad that she won but then he thinks what it must have involved. Death, pain, despair. It seems to him such a waste. Especially with the threat of the Army of the Dead.

As if reading his mind, she says that he is not sure how he feels about that. “No, I’m not,” he admits.

“How many men did your army kill taking back Winterfell from the Boltons?” she asks as she starts to walk slowly towards the castle. He follows the suit.

“Thousands,” he replies quietly. And his mind wanders to the battle. He thought he would not survive it, he did but it was a massacre. And such a waste of life.

“We both want to help people,” she says. “We can only help them from the position of strength.” She is right, no one would listen to a mere ranger to help the Wildlings, he could do it because he was the Lord Commander. And even now the North would not be readying themselves if he did not make them as the King in the North.

“Sometimes strength is terrible,” she adds. And again he has to agree with her. He never shirked his responsibility for others, but it also made him do terrible things. Sometimes he is crushed by the burden of the guilt he is carrying. She seems to understand that. He feels closer to her than ever before. He is glad that the gods allowed him to meet her and know her. He only wishes it was in different circumstances.

But then she stops him, gently touching his elbow and he is facing her now. She asks about ‘a knife in the heart’ mentioned by Davos at their first meeting.  Now this is a very uncomfortable subject for him. Magic of dragons is one thing, but coming back from the dead is quite a different story. “Ser Davos gets carried away,” he tries to brush it off, giving her reassuring smile. Nevertheless she persists. He is faced with the dilemma; he does not want to lie to her but he is very reluctant to tell her the whole story. He thinks she deserves the truth from him but he cannot bring himself to tell her the gory details. She is looking at him very keenly and he knows she will not let it go easily. He is bracing himself to tell her but he is miraculously saved from doing that as the Dothraki guards came up to them. They say something to her that he does not understand and then he sees that they brought with them a man he never saw before, a Westerosi by all accounts.

She seems to recognise the man. Her voice softens as he had never heard it do before. It is obvious that this man is important to her. The man kneels before her and calls her ‘your grace’ and then he looks at him suspiciously.

Daenerys introduces the man as Ser Jorah Mormont. Mormont? He realises quickly that this is the son of his old Lord Commander. “I served with your father,” he says to Mormont. “He was a great man.”

Mormont nods but says nothing. Jon recalls now what he had heard of Ser Jorah before. He was sentenced by Jon’s father for trading in slavery. She introduced him as an old friend, it confuses him. She of all people should feel very strongly about it. And yet she is apparently moved to see him, her voice is soft and gentle when she asks him if he had found the cure. The cure? A cure for what? Nothing is explained and now Mormont asks her to take him back to her service. “It would be my honour,” she says. Jon is really very confused now. Then she takes a step towards Mormont and embraces him.

Jon feels a thud in his stomach. He has never seen her being that comfortable with anyone. Well, maybe with Missandei, but he always presumed it was a girl thing. He feels a hot wave engulfing his whole body. He is jealous, really jealous. Where did it came from? What is happening to him? He never felt jealous about a woman. Never. Luckily for him, the embrace does not last long and she steps back to her place by Jon. ‘A small victory’ he thinks. He knows he glowers at Mormont but he cannot help himself. She said he was an old friend. A friend? Is it all that there really is? At times he thought that he saw her looking at him with softness in her eyes but now he knows he was wrong. She just wants an ally. This here, this is a real emotion. He does not say another word when they walk back to the castle.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

She does not understand what is wrong. Yet she feels very strongly that something is wrong. Did she say anything? Has he received some bad news from home? No, she would have known about that. Yet he is changed. Well, he never really talked much. He is a typical Northern strong, silent type. But his attitude towards her has changed. He is polite but not engaging. He avoids her eye. Looking at the floor seems to be a favourite pastime for him now. He sulks. And she cannot fathom the reason for it. She seems to recall that the change came with the arrival of Ser Jorah but surely it cannot be it. What has Jorah to do with it? It does not even make sense.

It is annoying to her that the more he avoids her, the more she craves his company. She cannot understand why. He is right here and she misses him. What is wrong with her? Her dreams became even more disturbing now and in her time alone she keeps coming back to reminiscing their conversation in the cave. The way he looked at her there. And the touch, even if for a fleeting moment.

Whenever he enters the room she is in, her heart is beating faster. It never really happened before. She came to love Drogo and she enjoyed his body but he had never made her feel that way. With Daario it was pure lust. She knows he loved her but he never invaded her dreams. She did not tremble at the thought of him touching her. With Ser Jorah… well, she came to love him as a friend and a kind of father figure. Not that she knew her father. And not that she wished she knew him.

So what is it about Jon? Or Jon Snow rather.

She simply cannot be in love in him. There it is. She finally allowed herself to use the word when she is thinking about him.

She loved Drogo and it felt nothing like it. She lusted after Daario but it felt nothing like it either. So what is it about Jon? Why does she even care if he looks at her or not? Why does she even care if he likes her or not?

He is just an useful ally. That is all. ‘Just stop thinking about him,’ she tells herself.

 

**_Jon_ **

He does not remember when it was the last time he was so miserable. The evenings in her company became a torture.

Especially the evening of the arrival of Mormont. Well, at least he now learned that greyscale is curable, he did not know that it could be. And some part of him was worried that she touched Mormont. What if he was not cured? Grudgingly he has to admit it highly unlikely. He can clearly see how Mormont looks at her, doing those cow eyes at her. Mormont would not risk infecting her. He bloody loves her. And she seems to enjoy his company which is more annoying than Jon can take.

When Mormont mentioned the Maesters at the Citadel he wanted to ask if he met Sam but as he did not trust the tone of his voice, he kept silent. In any case it would be highly unlikely, Sam was learning to become a Maester, in what possible circumstances could they have met?

In any case, from this evening on, he does all he can to avoid her. He thinks he could not bear to hear even a little dose of her gushing over Mormont. And yet despite his stubborn attitude towards Mormont, he is too honest not to allow that Mormont seems like an honourable man and his devotion to her is unquestionable. Mormont saved her life twice. Even if nothing more is said about the circumstances, he understands why she trusts him.

That evening Jon made some deep soul searching. He is acting unreasonably. He is jealous and yet he has no claim on her. Seven hells, why should he have? She obviously does not care for him at all. She only sees him as an ally. He deluded himself that there might be something building between them. Something more than strategic alliance. Oh, what a fool he has been! He needs to get a grip on himself. He is here to mine dragonglass and possibly make her an ally. Nothing more, nothing less.

Well, easier said than done.

The more he avoids her, the more he craves her company. Her face is the face he sees when he closes his eyes in bed. Despite his steely resolution of not thinking about her, his mind wanders to her constantly. The way she looked at him in the cave, her flying this gigantic dragon like it is next to nothing. As it turns out her looking into his eyes was not as special as he thought. She is just very intense and he fell for it like a child.

He knew instantly that Ygritte took a fancy to him and he was not wrong. But then Ygritte was different, similarly fierce and strong perhaps, but more straightforward. She was not playing games.

Daenerys is a royalty, he presumes the political games are in her blood. And still he thinks she is different than others, she has a kind heart and she wants to protect her people. It does not hurt to add that she is more beautiful than he could ever imagine. He remembers when King Robert and Queen Cersei came to Winterfell; everyone whispered how beautiful she was and how she was the most beautiful lady in Westeros. He begs to differ. Especially since Daenerys arrived at Dragonstone.

He thinks that he is only bitter now because his hopes were raised. Well, maybe it was not anybody’s fault, maybe his own imagination was too robust.

In any case he learned his lesson. When you imagine yourself in love, it is probably just something you ate yesterday.

Hold on. Love? Where did it come from? He is not in love. There is no time and this is not a place to feel things. He has a task at hand, a task he may not survive but at least he will try. War time is not a time for feelings. They distract and this is what happened, he got distracted. No more of this Daenerys stuff, he has the humanity to protect.

Her eyes are like mountain lakes and he could happily drown in them… ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Jon, get a grip on yourself.’

 

**_Daenerys_ **

He reads his scroll in silence. She watches him with anxiety. Is it bad news? Why has he got so pale out of the sudden? She is impatient to know but she knows he must do it in his own time. Finally he reads the scroll out loud, in a very monotone voice. It is not bad news, is it? She is confused. There is a long silence.

“I thought Arya was dead. I thought Bran was dead,” he finally speaks.

She does not understand, this is good, right? “I’m happy for you,” she says. It made no impact on him, he still stares at the map gloomily. “You don’t look happy,” she states what she sees. He does not even look in her direction.

“Bran saw the Night King and his army marching towards Eastwatch. If they make it past the Wall…” he tosses the scroll angrily. Varys tries to interpose that the Wall kept them away for thousands of years.

She sees that he does not listen to any of them. “I need to go home,” he says emphatically.

Her heart sinks. She has not thought about it for some reason. She just accepted his presence here without looking much into the future, how stupid of her. Is she now to lose him? She is not ready for it yet. Will she ever be? She starts to feel annoyed at herself. She feels she needs to say something. “You said you don’t have enough men.”

“We’ll fight with the men we have,” he still does not look at her. “Unless you’ll join us?” Finally her presence was acknowledged by his eyes.

“And give the country to Cersei?” she asks a little annoyed. “As soon as I march away she marches in.”

Finally her Hand joins the conversation. Tyrion wants to prove Cersei wrong in disbelieving the story about the White Walkers. He proposes to bring the dead to her.

Now she is confused, “I thought that was what we were trying to avoid?” she says. Tyrion explains that they only have to bring one soldier  as an example. Apparently it is possible as Jon explains that he met his first wight in Castle Black. A wight? What is that? Is it a dead man? This conversation is getting out of hand in her opinion. Everyone suddenly seems eager to go with it but she thinks it is a stupid plan. Is she the only one seeing how dangerous it may be?

Even Varys concedes with the only exception that they would need to convince Cersei to listen to them instead instantly trying to kill them. Tyrion suggests that in order to convince her, he needs to convince Jaime.

She is starting to lose her patience. “And how would you get in King’s Landing?” she asks. Both Jon and Tyrion look at Ser Davos. Ah, yes, his past as a smuggler.

It all seems like settled but there is this crucial thing of getting a dead man as she points out. Varys supports her and ask Jon how he proposes to find one. Jon is silent. He looks uneasy.

Then Ser Jorah proposes to go and catch one. Is everyone mad today? And it is she that is always accused of being mad as her father. She is surprised and looks at Ser Jorah, she thought he was smarter than this. If this is the way he wants to prove himself to her, it is a stupid way. She hears Jon mentioning that the Free Folk will help them. She is still looking at Jorah. She is worried as it is a dangerous mission and she is afraid for him. She only just got him back, for goodness sake.

“They won’t follow Ser Jorah,” says Davos. Maybe there is a hope of abandoning this stupid, dangerous plan. She looks quickly at Ser Davos and then she hears it, “They won’t have to.”

Jon! He wants to go with them beyond the Wall! She feels as if someone kicked her in her stomach. She looks into Jon’s eyes desperately, pleading; she is now overcome with fear and despair. He cannot go there. It is too dangerous, she cannot lose him. She thinks she sees something in his eyes that looks like goodbye. He cannot be going. The sudden realisation of losing him, not only going away from Dragonstone, but quite possibly losing him forever, is more than she can bear. She is on the brink of tears and when he breaks the eye contact with her, she is desperately trying to compose herself. She has to do something, stop him from going. “I haven’t given you permission to leave,” she finally says in, what she hopes, her most regal tone.

She finally gained his full attention. “With respect, Your Grace, I don’t need your permission,” he replies forcefully. “I am a king.” She is spellbound and listens to him very intently. “And I came here knowing that you could have your men behead me, or your dragons burn me alive. I put my trust in you, a stranger, because I knew it was the best chance for my people. For all our people. Now I’m asking you, to trust in a stranger, because it is our best chance.”

That was surprisingly well put and her respect for him has just got bigger. As much as she does not want him to go, she knows she is not really given an option. He must know by now that she trusts him and so there really is no choice. She glances towards Tyrion, who slightly nods, but she knew already that she would have to let him go. She quickly nods her approval but all she wants to do now is to cry like a little girl. She needs to be alone, she is not sure for how long she can keep her composure. “Very well, my lords. You must all make your plans. I‘d like to be alone now.”

Varys, Tyrion and Ser Davos leave immediately. Only Jon and Ser Jorah linger a little longer and finally she is left with only Jon, still looking at her. She cannot look into his eyes, she stares at the map, she hopes that if she does not move or speak he will go.

No such luck, “Your Grace…” he starts gently.

She cannot allow it, not now, “I expect you will be needing your sword, Your Grace. I shall make sure that it is given back to you today.”

She quickly stands up and walks towards the window, turning her back on him. Just in time. Two lonely tears are streaming down her face, but watching the sea calms her.

 

**_Jon_ **

His mind is in a swirl. He reads it again and again. Part of him is rejoicing, all the living Starks are home and safe, well, safe as they can be with a threat of the Army of the Dead looming over them. Meanwhile he sits here on this island, wasting his time. He hears what is being spoken to him but he does not react. He is angry at himself, he should be doing something.

They do not realise in what danger they are all in. He tells the room that he needs to go home.

She of all people should have known better that he does not have enough men. When he suggests that she should join him she only thinks about that bloody throne. He is angry at her because she kept him here and distracted him. He cannot help anybody from here.

Then Tyrion comes up with an idea. Jon made himself so angry that at first he does not grasp the full implications of it. As he calms down a bit and actually starts to listen, it dawns on him that it may not be the worst idea he had ever heard. They would have to catch a wight and show the others what is the actual threat. Tyrion may have finally found the answer to his original question that he posed on the cliff on the second day here. How to convince people that the threat is real? By showing them what it involves.

“Is that possible?” asks Davos.

“The first wight that I ever saw was brought into Castle Black from beyond the Wall,” Jon replies.

The conversation is going quickly now as even Lord Varys is seem to be in accord. Jon thinks that it may actually work. Cersei needs to accept the truce, so Tyrion offers to go to King’s Landing to talk it over with his brother.

She asks how Tyrion plans to get to King’s Landing. She sounds annoyed but he does not care about it at the moment. That is the easiest answer ever. He looks at Davos who concedes. The plan starts to look doable.

“But it’ll all be for nothing if we don’t have one of these dead men,” she points out. He still hears annoyance in her voice, to be honest he sees nothing to be annoyed about from her perspective. But she is right, catching a wight is crucial to their plan.

“How do you propose to find one?” asks Varys. Jon knows the answer to this already, as much as he hates going beyond the Wall again, he is ready to try to catch a wight. Tormund is at Eastwatch, so he is sure that he will get help. But before he can answer, Ser Jorah offers himself, “With the queen’s permission, I’ll go North and take one.”

‘Seven hells, what is this? It is supposed to be my mission,’ Jon thinks.

“You asked me to find a cure so I could serve you. Allow me to serve you,” continues Ser Jorah.

It did not escape Jon’s notice how quickly she reacted to Ser Jorah’s offer, she turned her head towards him and listened with horror. It is obvious that she cares for Ser Jorah. Jon felt the pang of jealousy again. Despite his resolution, he wished she showed at least a portion of that anxiety for him. No, this is stupid. Why should he care? In any case it is getting out of control, he already decided that he is going and if Jorah wants to join, he can use an additional warrior by his side.

His declaration that he is going on this mission stuns the room. His eyes inadvertently go to her. She is positively staring at him. She looks as if she is shocked and deeply worried. She looks unhappy. He does not want to make her unhappy but he needs to go. Seeing the pain in her eyes actually makes him feel horrible. He has been ranting at her in his mind and there she is, this beautiful, ferocious and kind queen obviously worried about his wellbeing. He cannot take it anymore, he looks down, it hurts him to see her pain.

Davos interjects, “You can’t lead the raid beyond the Wall. You’re not in the Night’s Watch anymore, you’re King in the North.”

“I’m the only one here who’s fought them. I’m the only one here who knows them,” Jon tries to explain.

Then he hears the queen speak for the first time since he proposed to go. She says that she did not permit him to leave. Well. He tries to explain to her as firmly as he can manage that he is a king and does not need her permission. For a short moment he thinks that he spoke too harshly, nevertheless he continues in the same tone. He tells her the she has to trust him as he put his trust in her. His voice is gentler at the end of the speech because he can clearly see that despite the words of haughtiness she is still worried and anxious, and that worry and anxiety is due to him going beyond the Wall. She looks quickly towards Tyrion and then gives a very brief nod of approval to his request.

He keeps looking at her but she broke the eye contact and stubbornly stares at the table. She asks them all to leave. Everyone walks out of the room except him and Ser Jorah that is. He sees in the corner of his eye that Jorah is watching him. After a short hesitation Jorah leaves the room.

He does not take his eyes off her. She is sitting motionless, still focused on the table. She reminds him of the dolls Sansa played with when she was little. They were definitely Sansa’s toys, Arya never touched them. But she is more beautiful than any doll or anyone he has ever seen.

There is a feeling of tenderness and protectiveness in him for her. There she is. Alone again. He wants to explain to her in private his reasons for going. He wants to reassure her. And yes, he wants to take her into his arms and kiss away her sadness. “Your Grace…” he starts.

She immediately interrupts him and tells him that she will return his sword to him, then she turns her back to him and he knows that the precious moment is lost. He slowly leaves the room.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

As soon as she saw Tyrion’s face when he came back from King’s Landing, she knew his mission was successful. She would not have called it that. She still thinks that the raid is stupid and dangerous. A week has passed since this mad idea of a raid had been planned. They are all busy with preparations. They are leaving today. She sits with Missandei in her own chambers. She is not a good company today. She tried to avoid everyone, but she trusts Missandei implicitly, she is the only one allowed to see the queen not acting regally.

“I wish you were there,” she says to Missandei. “Maybe two voices of reason would discourage them from being a hero.”

“Your Grace, Jon Snow had already been there and he knows what to expect. I’m sure he will be well prepared and careful,” replies Missandei.

She knows Missandei wants to console her. “Sometimes you can have all the preparations and plans in place, but still it all goes wrong,” she muses. “And Ser Jorah, one would have thought that getting his health back would give him more reasons to live instead he is acting like he is looking for an honourable death.”

“Valar morghulis,” says Missandei quietly.

“Indeed,” Daenerys agrees. “But there is no such thing as an honourable death. It’s just death.”

“I’m sure that they both come back, Your Grace. Especially Lord Snow,” Missandei smiles gently.

She glances at Missandei sharply. “I’ve told you already, it is just your imagination.” Before Missandei has a chance to reply, the door opens and a tall Dothraki comes in and nods. “It is time, Your Grace,” Missandei says.

Daenerys stands up and walks towards the door, then she stops and turns, “No,” she says to Missandei. “You stay, I don’t want to feed your vivid imagination more than it’s necessary.” They both smile in understanding.

Her long walk towards the beach, gives her time to think unperturbed. What if it is the last time she ever sees Jon? Should she say anything? If so what should it be? There is nothing to say.  She must be wrong about it all. She just imagined it, she must be as bad as Missandei. Maybe there is something in their food.

She sees Tyrion talking to Ser Jorah. She is glad they have grown to respect each other. When she reaches them, Tyrion steps back.

She and Jorah smile at each other. “We should be better at saying farewell by now,” she says.

“Your Grace, I…” Ser Jorah starts but she interrupts him by taking his hands in hers. She does not know if she did it instinctively to prevent him from saying things she does not want to hear or for any other reason, in any case she succeeded. In the silence between them they hear quick steps approaching. Ser Jorah glances in their direction, then quickly kisses her hands. She followed his gaze only to confirm her suspicion that it is Jon coming from the direction of the caves.

As soon as Jorah walks away, Jon stops in front of her. She looks at him as if she wants to memorise every wrinkle and every scar on his beautiful face, but particularly his eyes, those eyes that have been haunting her dreams for months. He looks on her only fleetingly, as if he wants to make this moment less solemn.

“If I don’t return, at least you won’t have to deal with the King in the North anymore,” he offers. They both smile briefly.

“I’ve grown used to him,” she replies.

His smile slowly fades and he leaves her with the traditional wishes of warriors. He nods and walks to the boat.

She would have never thought on seeing him arrive those two months or more ago, that she would be in in actual pain to see him leave. She stares long after the boat up to the point when they reach the ship. She is almost afraid that she will not have strength to turn her back on him.

 

**_Jon_ **

He went to the cave one more time to see the progress of mining. Even if he does not come back, he hopes the dragonglass will be delivered to Winterfell. They will need it all very soon. He notices the entrance to the little cave where the carvings of the Children were, for some reason he used to go there often. He wonders if the delicate smell of her perfume still lingers there.

Maybe it is all for the best. If he does not come back, he will not have to deal with his feelings. It is much too complicated as it is. And then there is Ser Jorah, maybe he will manage to come back and will be awarded by his queen. He noticed before how Mormont looks at him when he thinks Jon is not paying attention. Mormont cannot be happy that Jon is at Dragonstone.

He walks quickly out of the cave. He sees her from afar. She came to say farewell. She looks a perfection as always. It does not help. Well, he will try to make it quick. Less pain, the better.

He sees them holding hands. Familiar pang of jealousy is there again. He is angry at himself and that anger translates itself into his frustration as he has some problems with putting his gloves on. He tugs at them maniacally.

Mormont kisses her hands. Gods be good, does Mormont do it on purpose?

The only thing he should be thinking about now is the mission and he knows he will as soon as the main distraction of his life stays behind on Dragonstone.

She is finally alone, so he walks quickly towards her. He tries to joke to cover his nervousness. And although she answers playfully, he is unable to smile. He tries to take it all in, her exquisite face and all the magnificence of the rest of her body. It would be a nice picture to bring to mind with his last breath.

“I wish you good fortune in the wars to come, Your Grace,” he says solemnly. Good gods, her eyes are even bigger today. ‘Make it quick,’ he reminds himself.

He nods and walks towards the boat. It takes all of his inner strength not to look behind him. The mission, all he will think about from now on is the mission.

 

 

 


	4. Death is the Enemy

**Death is the Enemy**

 

**_Daenerys_ **

The castle seems eerily empty. Most of the Dothraki are still on the mainland, the Unsullied are slowly getting back from Casterly Rock, Varys has disappeared to some shady corner, Ser Jorah is sailing to meet his probable doom. And there is no Jon.

Not that he was a constant feature, he spent most of his days in that cave. Hmm, the cave. And those eyes pinned on her. ‘No, no, no, no, don’t go there,’ she tells herself. It is enough that she sleeps exceptionally badly since he left. Her dreams became more vivid, more intense. Jon being in danger is a constant theme.

She looks at Missandei sitting quietly in the corner, sewing. Missandei must miss Grey Worm, she told her so herself but she is calm. Is it this valar morghulis thing again?

Daenerys is different, she cannot be calm, she is restless. That is always the burden of those left behind, waiting for news, unable to help or do anything. She is sure he does not think of her, he is too busy doing something. She is just left with her thoughts. Thoughts about him.

“What is it that you are sewing?’ she asks to break the spell.

“I’m finishing a new coat for you, Your Grace,” Missandei replies, stopping her work for a moment. “The winds are getting colder each day, you need warmer clothes. I found those furs amongst the Dothraki loot hoards, I think they will suit you.”

She smiles. She was so fortunate to find Missandei; a wise, compassionate and loyal friend.

“How are you coping with the cold?” she asks.

“I manage, Your Grace,” replies Missandei smiling. “May I ask, Your Grace,” she pauses, “how do you cope with Lord Snow being gone?”

Daenerys swallows hard. “It doesn’t bother me at all,” she replies quickly and walks swiftly to the window so Missandei would not see her face. Lying to friends is not something she enjoys.

 

**_Jon_ **

He was nearly proud of himself. During their boat journey he only thought about her five times. All right, eight times. But this is a very good score for two and a half days. He does not count thinking of her before going to sleep. That does not count. It is like bedtime prayer for him. He cannot help it, she is always there. What did help was that no one really mentioned her. He made sure of that; each time he went to the deck and looked towards the direction they came from, he just knew he was watched closely by Davos, so as soon Davos approached him, he started a conversation about the preparations, weapons made of dragonglass, Tormund, the Wall, whatever came to his mind. He started repeated himself at times but Davos obediently complied. He suspected Davos indulged him rather but he did not care.

When they came to Eastwatch, it was a true pleasure to meet with Tormund again. Tormund asked which queen he wanted to convince, he replied that he needed to convince both of them. It was not strictly true but deep down he felt it was closer to the truth than anything. She believed him, but still she had no idea how big a threat the White Walkers are.

And now walking through the snow, Tormund asks about her again. Jon feels he must be careful as Mormont is walking just behind them and assuredly is within the earshot. He tells the truth, she wants him to bend the knee. To Jon’s surprise, Tormund seems to realise what Jon himself thought in the cave. Mance did not bend the knee and a lot of people died. Ugh, the cave. Why did he have to think about the cave? His score of not thinking about her does not look good.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

Tyrion started drinking again. She noticed how sober and moderate with the drink he was after the battle of Mereen, now it looks like his failures weigh on him. She allows it as she knows he needs a breathing space, she has been harsh with him recently.

They are sharing wine in the War Room, just for once, only two of them.

“Do you know what I like about you?” she asks.

“I honestly don’t,” Tyrion replies in sincere surprise.

“You’re not a hero,” she says quietly and walks towards the fireplace where Tyrion is sitting. Tyrion misunderstood her meaning. He starts to tell her that he acted heroically in the past. “I don’t want you to be a hero,” she explains. “Heroes do stupid things and they die. Drogo, Jorah, Daario, even this… Jon Snow. They all try to outdo each other, who can do the stupidest, bravest thing,” she finishes bitterly. She is tired of being worried about him. Her frustration needed a release.

“It’s interesting,” muses Tyrion. “Those heroes you name, Drogo, Jorah, Daario, even this… Jon Snow. They all fell in love with you,” he finishes matter-of-factly.

She almost knew it was coming, she caught herself too late, she needs to minimise the damage. “Jon Snow is not in love with me,” she says quickly, covering her embarrassment with the mocking smile. Her heart is beating faster. She is afraid of what Tyrion might say next. She watches him closely

“Oh, my mistake,” he says in mock apology. “I suppose he stares at you longingly because he is hopeful for a successful military alliance.” He sounds a bit annoyed. At her? At Jon Snow? She cannot make it out.

She needs a strong argument, a believable argument to help with her denial. She rakes her brain. “He’s too little for me.” Oh, Daenerys, this is so bad. On many levels. It is not only a weak and unbelievable argument, but on top of it she seems to have offended Tyrion.

“I … I didn’t mean …” she stammers. She is really bad at this conversation at the moment.

 

**_Jon_ **

They are making a slow progress. They stop a lot. Not everyone in the group is used to walks in such a cold weather.

To keep up the spirits in the group, Jon tried to talk to everyone, even for a few moments; they are such an impossible bunch that making it a close knit unit is a hard work. He failed miserably with the Hound, other conversations were more or less satisfactory. The only person he had not talked to yet is Mormont and deep down he dreads it, he needs to find the right angle.

“The first time I went north of the Wall was with your father,” he tries when he catches up with him.

“He was a good man. He deserved a better son,” Mormont replies.

Jon looks at him closely, there is more to Mormont than he thought at first. She may have been right about Mormont to trust him.

“Were you with him at the end?” asks Mormont.

‘He tries to judge my character,’ Jon thinks. Smart. He explains that he was with the Wildlings at that time. He may as well add that it was through his own fault and looking for him cost the Night’s Watch many good men. He chooses to omit that, it will not help to make a bond this way. “But we avenged him,” he offers. “I want you to know that every mutineer found justice.”

“Can’t think of the worse way for him to go…” says Mormont bitterly. “The Night’s Watch was his life. He would have died to protect every one of those men. And they butchered him.”

“I hate it that he died that way,” Jon says in a deep voice. Then he talks about his own father who was honourable to the end and yet he died on the executioner’s block. ‘That is the other thing we have in common’, he thinks. The first ‘thing’ is Daenerys but he does not think it would be a good idea to bring her into it.

Mormont admits that Jon’s father wanted to execute him and he sincerely adds that even if Ned Stark was in the right, it did not stop him from hating Ned.

Jon appreciates Mormont’s sincerity, he knows now he has misjudged him and he knows what was the actual reason for disliking him. Childish jealousy. Here, now, it seems so futile, they can both die at any moment and it will not matter whom Daenerys liked best.  “I’m glad he didn’t catch you,” he says to Mormont with a smile.

Then he remembers something that kept nagging him for a while now. He stops Mormont and they wait until the group passes them.

“Your father gave me this sword,” he says quietly, unbuckling the belt with Longclaw on it. He explains its different look because of the pommel that Jeor Mormont changed, and hands it to Ser Jorah.

Mormont holds the sword gingerly, as if he was seeing the holiest of things, he even unsheathes it a little and looks long and hard at it.

“Lord Commander Mormont thought you would never come back to Westeros,” Jon says. “But you are back. And it’s been in your family for centuries. It’s not right for me to have it.”

Mormont is silent for a moment. “He gave it to you,” he says.

“I’m not his son,” replies Jon.

“I’ve brought shame onto my house,” says Mormont. “It broke my father’s heart. I forfeited the right to claim this sword. It’s yours,” he hands the sword back to Jon. “May it serve you well…. And your children after you,” he adds in a whisper, knowingly looking straight into Jon’s eyes.

Jon is dumbstruck, he thinks he understood the meaning behind Mormont’s words. Or did he? His head is buzzing. Does Ser Jorah think him more honourable and worthy of Longclaw? Does he approve of him and Daenerys? Does he think he and she will have children? What is this madness?

Children? He never wanted to sire a child as they would have to bear the infamy of him being a bastard son of his father. Does it change anything if he is a king now? Children! He never looked beyond the present day. He never planned for the future. He always thought he would have no future. It only shows that despite everything that happened to him, he was still in the Night’s Watch ranger’s way of thinking.

And even now with Daenerys, he never even thought about the future. Well, what he would have wanted is for him to say ‘I love you’, her replying ‘I love you’ and that is it, deal done – they are together.

Wait. What?

What is happening to him? He never meant to think that. This is not what he wants.

Well, not really that.

Probably.

No, it is not. The war is coming. The war for survival. What in seven hells is he even thinking about?

Here he is, trying to fight the monsters that want to kill all the living and he is spewing nonsense.

He really needs to focus.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

That conversation with Tyrion disconcerted her.

First of all, this talk of Jon being in love with her. How could everyone see what she just cannot? Well, maybe not everyone. But apparently Tyrion and Missandei saw something. At times she was sure that her own feelings were reciprocated but more often she felt they were not.

Her own feelings? What are they exactly? These feelings are different from anything she has known before. They overpower her, she is distracted, she yearns for something and she is not sure what it is.

The way they said farewell to each other broke her heart. And he never even looked back.

She should not think of Jon now. She should be focused on the wars that are coming. Not only with Cersei but apparently with those dead men that are coming to kill them all.

And there is this other thing that Tyrion got suddenly obsessed about. Succession after her death. She remembered the words said by that crazy witch: ‘when the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, when the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves, when your womb quickens again and you will bear a living child.’ She knows nothing of prophecies, maybe only this that they are not to be taken literally. She is not sure why she even believed that witch but as far as she knows, it means that she can never have children. She is bleeding again but nothing happened when she lived with Daario.

What kind of man would want to marry a barren queen if she cannot give him heirs? And it would be cruel to keep it secret from anyone she married. Thus she grudgingly agrees with Tyrion that they should talk about the succession. But she is not ready yet.

There is a knock on the door and Missandei comes in. “Your Grace, I’ve finished the coat, would you like to try if it suits you?”

“Yes, of course,” she replies and puts the coat on, and Missandei adds the chain with the three-headed dragon. The coat does not restrict her movements so it is fine. “Well, I suppose…” She is interrupted by an urgent knock on the door. “Yes?’ she says.

Tyrion and Varys enter the room . Her heart sinks, every time she sees them both like this, they bring bad news. “What is it?’ she asks anxiously.

“There was a raven from Eastwatch, Your Grace.” Varys says in his usual quiet voice. “Jon Snow needs immediate help beyond the Wall, about the day walk from the Wall itself, near a mountain shaped like an arrowhead. No other details were given. I’m afraid the mission-“

She does not even say a word, she just walks quickly out of the room. The guards start to follow her but she stops them with just a hand gesture. She can hear quick footsteps following her. “Your Grace?” cries Tyrion behind her.

She does not respond, she keeps walking. Tyrion is still following her and now understanding that she intends to fly her dragon beyond the Wall, he tries to dissuade her from it, prompting all kind of arguments against it. She is silent, she just keeps walking.

When they reach the dragons sweetly sleeping on the cliff, his voice becomes desperate. His elaborate arguments were finished. “You can’t,” he says simply. “The most important person in the world can’t fly to the most dangerous place in the world.”

“Who else can?” she finally breaks her silence.

“No one, they knew this when they left,” he replies. “You can’t win the throne when you’re dead. You can’t break the wheel if you’re dead.”

She started to mount Drogon but stopped at this point and turned to face Tyrion. “So what would you have me do?” she asks resignedly.

“Nothing,” he replies. “Sometimes nothing is the hardest thing to do.”

‘No more,’ she thinks. No more doing nothing. She is tired of doing nothing.

“If you die, we’re all lost,” Tyrion tries desperately. “Everyone, everything.” His voice is almost on the brink of tears.

She is touched by this but she just has to do it. “You told me to do nothing before and I listened to you,” she tries to sound calm. “I’m not doing nothing again,” she says quietly. Drogon flies first and then Rhaegal and Viserion follow.

She needs to focus. It is a long flight. That raven must have been sent last night. She does not even know if they are still alive but she feels that she must try to save Jon, save them all.

She is glad that Missandei made her this new coat. The frosty wind almost hurts her cheeks, she tries to keep her head as close to Drogon’s skin as she can.

It is hard to see but whenever she glimpses at the lands they are passing, she notices the changed landscape. Almost no greenery, just white and black.

She looks ahead and sees the Wall. She gasps at the enormity of the structure. There is this fleeting thought. How would those dead men even cross it?

As they are quickly approaching the Wall itself, she has to focus as she tries to recall the map in the War Room.  The area beyond the Wall was not sculpted with many details, and she really cannot see the shapes of any mountains from this high above.

In her mind she tells Drogon to look for it and find Jon. He knows Jon so maybe miraculously he will be able to find him in this huge wasteland. She is terrified to find them too late.

Suddenly Drogon turns slightly to the left and starts flying lower, other two dragons follow suit. Drogon starts to circle the area so she strains her eyes looking down.

And there she sees it.  A multitude of misshapen figures are surrounding a group of fighters on a rock, from above it looks like an island on a frozen lake. She hopes Jon is among those fighters in the middle, still alive. Drogon dives sharply towards the island, roaring loudly; she says ‘dracarys’ and Drogon breathes the fire on those creatures attacking the island. And so do Rhaegal and Viserion. As Drogon nears the island, she sees Jon, in heavy furs, just looking up at her. Her heart skips a beat, he is alive. Alive.

And so her battle for the living begins.

 

**_Jon_ **

He had a feeling that taking the wight relatively easy was a bad omen. And as soon as he heard this deafening screech from the creature he knew the bad things were coming. He did not know if Gendry would get to Eastwatch in time; frankly he did not know if he would get there at all. But it was the last thing that gave him strength to fight. A hope to survive, a hope to come back. And just as he said to Ser Jorah, Daenerys was their last hope.

Despite the layers of clothes they all had on, they were all trembling, they were slowly freezing to death. He did not sleep, he knew that being too comfortable and letting the sleep take you, could be the last decision in life he had ever taken. He did not want to end either as Thoros of Myr or as a wight.

When the morning broke, he saw the wights again, patiently standing on the shores of the lake. At least during the night he did not have to look at them. He wondered how many of those wights he knew from his time amongst the Wildlings or from his time in the Night’s Watch. He thought he could recognise characteristic cloaks of the Night’s Watch on some of them. He wondered if uncle Benjen was among them. It would be horrible to meet him again this way.

At least he had a proof that fire, Valyrian steel and dragonglass worked. Bu there were so many of them, how can the North even try to stop them. The Northern forces are not enough. If Daenerys does not help them, they are doomed. Just like now, if she decides not to come, there is no conceivable way out of this situation. Maybe it was not such a good idea after all to come here and try to catch a wight.

The Hound bothers him. He froze when that bear wight on fire approached him and if it were not for Thoros and later Ser Jorah, the Hound would be dead. And now the Hound is stirring things up again. Throwing stones at wights is a stupid idea.

“Oh, fuck,” he heard the Hound saying under his breath, it made him look up. The lake froze again. There we go again.

More and more wights are coming towards them. He thinks that they are fortunate that not all wights started charging at them at once. Maybe there is a chance.

He yells to fall back, they need to make a smaller circle around the wight they captured to have any chance at all. They have already lost some men.

Suddenly in the middle of the fight, Jon stops to take a look at their situation. There is no hope now. He can clearly see that there is no chance in hell that they will come out of it alive. He steels himself for the last battle of his life as a thinking and breathing man.

Then he hears that familiar, mighty roar and he falls to the ground as a stream of fire engulfs the wights before him. A dragon! He recognises Drogon, but then he sees Rhaegal and Viserion following their brother’s steps and breathing fire at the wights around them. She came. She came to rescue them. Watching wights disappearing in the sea of fire is so exhilarating, he is just ecstatic to see it, he looks up and he sees his beautiful Mother of Dragons, fierce look at her face, choosing the targets for the dragon fire breathed by her children.

Drogon lands with a great thud on their small island; Jon thinks that it is the most wonderful sound in the world at the moment. She landed on the other side and he cannot clearly see her, as his men are in a way. He has to see her now. Now! He forcefully pushes Tormund away, there can be nothing and no one between her and him. He stops in awe. Just to look at her. This beautiful creature in her full battle stance with her hair glistening in the light of the fire is the most magnificent thing he has ever seen in his life. His heart is pounding in his chest, he can hardly breathe, he cannot take his eyes off her. His love for her is the greatest gift he has ever been given. He does not care if she loves him back, just to be allowed to look at her, be near her is enough. It is worth more than all the riches of this world.

Drogon moves closer to their group and Jon runs towards her. She reaches towards him with her outstretched hand, this is the most beautiful smile that welcomes him.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

She lands with Drogon on the edge of the island, the dead men are coming from all sides, but she does not even have to say to Drogon anything, he takes the initiative and clears huge spaces around the island.

She sees Jon running towards her, she is happy, relieved and overjoyed to see him unharmed; she leans in and reaches for his hand. He is so close. But then he hesitates, looks back at the dead men coming towards them, he turns back and starts fighting them. She is worried now, he was just there, within her reach, but now he protects others when they are mounting the dragon. She is concerned but she understands, this is what he does, he protects his people. She respects that but at this moment she wishes he would be more selfish and get back to her, to the safety. The dead men keep coming, and she cannot make Drogon breathe in that direction as it would put Jon in danger of being burned. So she waits. Even Ser Jorah calls Jon, even he sees that Jon goes too far and puts himself in danger. They are just waiting only for Jon now, everyone that is alive and the captured dead man, as she suspects, is on Drogon.

It is then when she hears the piercing scream of her baby, she turns her head in disbelief and looks helplessly as Viserion screams in pain; his blood, his precious blood is splashing all over the ice, and then he falls heavily to the ground, the ice beneath him breaks, and he slowly sinks down into the water. She sees the fire going out in his eye and he disappears under the ice.

She cannot comprehend what she is seeing. She hears screams from Drogon and Rhaegal. What is happening? Where is Viserion? Where is her baby?  In her mind she calls him. There is no response. There is this emptiness. Why has not the world stopped?

She wants to scream but she feels numb. There is no thought in her mind, just despair and hurt from Drogon and Rhaegal.

As if through the fog, she hears Jon’s voice screaming something at her. She looks at him but she does not understand. He runs towards her so she waits for him to mount Drogon so they could all fly away.

Suddenly she sees that two dead men jump on him and he falls into the lake. It cannot be happening. It is not real. Why does he not surface? She looks at the hole in the ice fully expecting him to show there. He does not. Then she looks in the direction from which Jon was running.

Her mind starts working quicker now. She sees that man with a crown of ice on his head is preparing to throw a spear. She instantly connects that this is what must have happened to Viserion. She screams ‘vlar’ at Drogon and they fly away. Drogon swerves suddenly but they keep going.

As they are flying away she looks back at the place where she lost her child and the man she loves.

 

**_Jon_ **

The deafening roar full of pain, makes him turn in that direction. He watches the unfolding tragedy in horror. Oh gods, it cannot be happening. He is shaken by what he is seeing, it seems unreal. This wonderful, magical creature, he watched flying every day since he came to Dragonstone, is gone.

His thoughts go immediately to Daenerys. Her dragon died in front of her eyes. Her heart must be broken. She must be devastated.

He feels the anger rising in him, he is ready to kill anyone and anything that made Daenerys suffer. He kills two wights coming at him with such a force that they shatter to pieces. He looks directly at the Night King. This is very personal now. He vows to do anything to be the one who kills the Night King.

But then he notices that the Night King is being given a second spear; sheer panic takes over, he may hurt Daenerys on Drogon. He runs back towards Drogon and yells as loud as he can, “Go! Go now! Leave!”

He has to fight the wights that keep attacking him but then he is assaulted by two wights that he did not see coming and they push him to the ground.

He hears the ice breaking under him and then he is in the water, the wights are strangling him, they are falling further into the deep. He lost his sword, so he tries to tear away the wights with his hands. The wights finally loosen their grip on him and he is free. It is fortunate for him that they do not swim.

But he feels weak and strangely at peace, and sleepy; he tries to remember when it was last that he felt that way. The sudden realisation of the exact moment, when he was laying in the courtyard in Castle Black, wakes him up. No! He cannot give up now. He has a reason to live. With the sheer force of mind he forces his body to fight and he swims slowly to the surface. When he shots out of the water, his lungs hurt when he tries to catch the air. His arms and head are above the water but he has no strength left to get himself out of there.

His eyes fall on Longclaw. ‘I have to,’ he tells himself. ‘I just have to.’ He grabs the sword, and slowly, very slowly gets onto the ice. He is exhausted, he breathes heavily but he knows he has to get up. When he finally does, his legs are starting to give in and he has to lean on Longclaw as if it was a cane. He tells himself that he has to fight for the living. He is the shield that guards the realms of men. Death is the enemy. He has to fight it. The dragons are nowhere to be seen and he only hopes they all got away safely. He hopes that she is safe; his life is the price he is willing to pay.

By this time the wights who were walking away somehow notice him and turn back towards him. He is so weak that the muscles in his arm refuse to hold the heavy sword. But he is still determined to fight.

His eyes are trying to focus and as if through the fog he sees a horse rider who swings something on fire. He does not see clearly and he has a problem with concentrating. But he sees some wights catching fire. The horse rider is getting closer to him but he is confused and he does not know if he is supposed to fight him or not.

The horse rider dismounts his horse and walks quickly towards Jon, his face is partially covered but then he removes the covers and Jon sees who it is. “Uncle Benjen!” he says in utter surprise. “How?”

Benjen helps him to get on a horse and although Jon begs him to come too, Benjen refuses.

Riding away, Jon slowly turns his head and looks back. Benjen being overwhelmed by wights is the last thing he sees before his eyes close.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

Many years ago she promised herself that she would never allow anyone see her tears. Not even Missandei has ever seen her in her darkest hour.

Everyone at Eastwatch is looking at her. Ser Jorah is saying something but she does not hear. She is like in a trance. She tries to control every muscle on her face. She wants it to be as impassive as she can possibly muster.

“I want to go on top of the Wall,” she says coldly.

Ser Jorah interjects, “Your Grace, we are loading the ship, we will be leaving soon..”

She gives him a cold look.

“As you wish, Your Grace,” concedes Ser Jorah.

The climb on the stairs is taking ages; they go in silence. When she finally reaches the top she goes straight to the observation point and looks north of the Wall.

She does not know how long they are standing there. It is very cold and she shivers but she stubbornly looks on. She is holding hope against the hope that Jon somehow survived and he will come back to her. She told Rhaegal and Drogon to fly home, but Drogon stayed and he is flying over the Wall, crying from time to time. Drogon feels she is waiting for someone, she supposes.

“It’s time to go, Your Grace” says Ser Jorah gently.

“A bit longer,” she replies in a quiet voice. But she finally sees it is a vain hope, so she slowly turns back and starts to walk away. A horn is sounded, she does not know what it means but she follows Ser Jorah’s gaze and she sees a lone horse with a rider.

She does not see if it is Jon but she just knows it is him. She almost loses control over her face as she is trying to keep back the tears that are welling up in her eyes. She rushes for the stairs but when she realises it will take too much time to go down, stops and calls Drogon. He responds immediately and within moments she is down at the base of the Wall where she sees Jon being carried to the ship by four men. She hastens her steps towards them to be as close as she can. He is alive. He must be alive. They would not have taken him on the ship if he was not.

They carry him to a room and put him on a bed, then Ser Davos and two other men start to undress him quickly. Jon’s eyes are closed but he breathes, and knowing that he is here and that he is safe is the best news that she can have.

When the men step back, she sees with horror not only the bruises on his body but deep scars on his chest, one of them definitely over his heart. So it was true. It was all true.

 

**_Jon_ **

He slowly wakes and tries to focus his eyes. It is some kind of room, windows; he feels a movement, a ship? He is on the ship? Oh, he survived then. Good. His eyes are still not in focus but then he sees the shape and colouring that can only mean her. Is he dreaming? No, she is here. The bravest, the most beautiful, the one and only Daenerys.

She notices him waking up and there is a relief on her face, full of tenderness. He must still be dreaming, she looks unreal to him, so calm, so poised, the absolute perfection of a woman. But he notices the reddened eyes and tears in her eyes. Then it dawns on him, all the memories are rushing in and he remembers the pain.

“I’m sorry,” he says gently with sincerity. “I’m so sorry.”

She shakes her head as if to say that there is nothing he should be sorry for, but she lowers her gaze and presses her lips together. He sees that she is probably trying not to burst into tears. She looks so vulnerable now, so tiny and so unhappy that he feels an actual physical pain in his chest to see her in that state.

Without thinking he takes her hand from her lap and holds it closer to his body. He squeezes it gently. Her hand is so soft and warm and so small.  If he was not so weak, he would have pressed his lips to it but he feels that it is beyond his ability now. What he would like to do is to take her into his arms and keep her there until all the monsters tormenting her would disappear.

Instead he can only gently stroke her hand with his thumb, she does not flinch immediately so maybe it is a good sign?

“I wish I could take it back,” he says in a quiet voice. “I wish we’d never gone.”

She shakes her head again and she suddenly returns to her regal poise, she removes her hand from his grip and hides all the emotions from her face. As much as it is entertaining for him to see, because he was never really capable of that, the sudden loss of the contact is painful, as if she took all the air from his lungs in one swift motion.

She says that she does not regret going there because she saw with her own eyes and now she knows. She might have got rid of all the emotions from her face but her voice betrays her. He sees the hurt despite the studied pose.

“The dragons are my children,” she continues. “They’re the only children I’ll ever have. Do you understand?” Her voice is very emotional now and the real Daenerys is shown to him again for a moment.

His heart goes to her, he is very moved that she trusts him that much, he knows she made herself vulnerable to him because she trusts him implicitly. In her moment of weakness he instinctively felt that it is better to avoid her eyes so he gazed at her hand instead, the hand he wants to touch so badly but he knows this is not the moment. When she asked him a question, he silently nodded and looked into her eyes.

Her face hardened and there is a real anger in her voice, “We are going to destroy the Night King and his army. We’ll do it together.” And she adds in a gentle voice, “You have my word.”

She promised to join him with no conditions or commitments, he got all what he wanted from her, giving her nothing in return. He always instinctively knew that this was the real her, kind, brave, loyal. Where has she been all his life?

She looks so beautiful and terrifying at the same time that he swallows hard. An overwhelming wave of emotion rushes through his body. “Thank you, Dany” he says without thinking, sometimes he called her that in his thoughts.

She seemed surprised by the nickname but fortunately not offended, if possible she got relaxed, he heard her chuckle for the first time ever. ‘Dany’ apparently reminds her of her brother that she very clearly was not fond of, at all. Well, it was not as if he planned it, so it is fine. He will not use ‘Dany’.

Then he thought that he might as well tell her what decision he took beyond the wall. “What about ‘my queen’?” he says. “I’d.. bend the knee but..” he tries to joke. Although he is not entirely sure if she got his meaning that he was completely naked under the furs.

She is surprised and visibly shaken; she was smiling before, now she is definitely serious. “What about those who swore allegiance to you?”

He reassures her that they will see for themselves what kind of person she is. She is unable to keep her emotions hidden again. Her eyes fill with tears and she breathes loudly, then she purposefully puts her hand in his hand.

‘This is where it belongs anyway,’ he thinks. His heart is beating faster and he is hypnotised by their hands together, he squeezes her hand again, and repeats the gentle stroking of her hand with his thumb. To his absolute joy she briefly and very gingerly copies his gesture.

“I hope I deserve it,” she says, her voice is shaky and she is gasping for air.

He assures her that she does. She gently smiles at him and then tries to remove her hand again, but this time he is ready and he does not let her go.

He watches her very closely. She looks at their hands and then slowly, very slowly raises her gaze to his eyes. He does not want to scare her, so he does not use any words but he tries to convey the message through his eyes. She looks like she got it and she is visibly embarrassed. It is not the reaction he hoped for, so he relaxes his grip and she slowly slips out her hand even if her fingers still linger on his hand. “You should get some sleep,” she says.

Only when he closes his eyes, she removes her hand completely, gets up and quickly leaves the room.

He then opens his eyes and looks longingly towards the door where she disappeared to and exhales deeply. He has an ally but now it will be his fate to make cow eyes at her as Ser Jorah does. She does not love him back.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

Before they sailed away from Eastwatch, the Maester came and took a good look at Jon. Afterwards she was informed that the prognosis is good, as the young man apparently has a constitution of a god, as anyone else in these circumstances would have probably never even survived. ‘The young man’ needs a rest and a lot of sleep. She was very sceptical of this doddering old man but when she came to see Jon by herself, she noticed that his breath was even and calm and his head was not hot. A sigh of relief escaped her. He will be all right. He will come back to me.

As soon as she woke up and dressed, she rushed to see how he was. He was still sleeping. She gingerly sat on the bed and just looked at him. One of his scars was clearly visible. An awful scar in the shape of a new moon. She kept wondering who did this to him. Why would they hate him so much? She came to know him and understood why Tyrion liked him. He is honourable, he is brave and he protects his people, no matter the costs.

The events of yesterday did make her confront her feelings, the issue she has been avoiding for so long. She loved Jon. It was like nothing else she felt before, it was different, it was new and it was scary. She needs to be strong if she wants to succeed and loving someone so much is a weakness. Can she afford the weakness now? If people think her weak, they may not trust her. She has always guarded herself not to show her emotions, not to show what she was thinking. She only ever lost when she let others see her weak. So what is she to do with this Jon Snow?

She took a good look at the scars on his face, old scars thankfully, none ill-gotten during their battle with the dead men. She liked the fact that she could just stare at him without him knowing and without being judged by anyone. She liked his lips, full and inviting; she liked his hands strong and calloused from the use of the sword, …

Ser Davos coming in interrupted her inspection and she blushed slightly. “Is he still sleeping?” he whispered. She did not reply but just pointed to Jon. “Ah, right. I’ll come back later then.”

Ser Davos was about to leave but she stopped him. “Ser Davos,” now it was her turn to whisper. “About those scars…”

Davos looked very uncomfortable. “Your Grace, if you don’t mind, I’d rather have him talk about it himself.” She was disappointed but she quickly nodded her assent.

As soon as Ser Davos left the room, Jon started to stir slightly. She was glad he was waking up as she needs some additional sleep herself. She slept badly as half the night she just quietly cried. Viserion was the sweetest of her dragons, she always thought of him as her youngest and the most gentle of them all. Nothing can console her now but she was happy that at least Jon has come back unharmed, well, relatively unharmed.

His eyes are slowly opening, he glances around and then his eyes rest on her, she is overjoyed that they can just look at each other like that, her eyes well up.

His first words are that he is sorry. She knows he is talking about Viserion, and no matter how much she tries, her emotions take over, she cannot risk looking into his eyes, he could see how distraught she is about it. But then he takes her hand into his and squeezes it gently. It does not help with her self-control because she is afraid that she may lose it. When he says that he regrets going beyond the Wall, she finally steels herself and takes her hand back; she is the queen, she has to be strong.

“I don’t,” she says. “If we hadn’t gone, I wouldn’t have seen.” She gasps for air. “You have to see it to know. Now I know.” She can hear her own voice being weak, and almost weepy. She tries hard to remove the weakness. But when she talks about dragons being her children, her voice breaks again, and even more when she mentions that she cannot have children. She needs to make him understand why she may seem weak now, she trusts him completely, but she needs to show him her strength too. She is grateful for his quiet reaction to what she is saying, his eyes are tender but not pitying, he just seems to accept it.

She feels strong enough now to tell him that she will unconditionally support him in his fight against the Night King, that they will destroy him together.

He seems impressed and thanks her, he calls her ‘Dany’. That took her by surprise. “Dany?” she gasps. For some reason she finds it amusing. She tries to recall who was the last person to call her that. It must have been Viserys. “Mhm,” she muses. “Not the company you want to keep,” she finishes gently. She feels more relaxed now when she has told Jon the most important thing she wanted to say, it is like crossing the last bridge to get home. She smiles at him gently.

“All right,” he says. “Not ‘Dany’”. He looks serious. “How about ‘my queen’?” he asks in a deep voice, staring at her intently.

She is shocked to the core; he wants to bend the knee even if she stopped asking for that some time ago. She is dumbstruck. Why is he doing that? Not so long ago, he told her that he did not need her permission to do anything because he was the king. He cares about his people strongly, she asks him about it, even though she is out of breath.

”They’ll all come to see for what you are,” he says gently. He believes in her; she is overcome with emotion again. He accepted her as she is, he trusts her. She instinctively takes his hand again in a gesture of her gratitude for the trust he puts in her. She gasps for air and is very shaken. All those emotions rushing through her body; she gained the trust of such a man, a man she respects, admires and… loves. She is not sure how to cope with it all. All out of sudden she is unsure of herself, she tells him that she hopes she deserves it.

“You do,” he says simply, tenderly. His voice sends a shiver down her spine. She yearns for his touch, her love for him is overflowing. Love. A weakness. She cannot show a weakness. She needs to break the spell. She tries to extricate her hand but he squeezes it harder and does not let go. She glances at their hands together.

Does it mean that he…? What does it mean? Does he love her or just …? She is afraid to look into his eyes. She did not plan any of this. She was not supposed to fall in love. It complicates things. It distracts her.

When she finally meets his eyes, she is unsure but she thinks this is something more, something other than ever before. She is panicking now. What should she do now? She is new to this. She looks away from him, and tries to go back to her regular regal poise. He releases her hand and she slowly withdraws it. Not all the way though. Despite her mind telling her to run, her body is reluctant to forgo the pleasure of his touch. Her fingers delicately linger on his hand. She tells him to get some sleep as per Maester’s order.

He obeys her, she sneaks a last look at him and finally leaves the room in a hurry.

She cannot breathe, she clutches her hand to her chest as she walks briskly to her cabin, she sees Ser Jorah watching her with concerned eyes. “Are you unwell, Your Grace?” he asks gently. She does not stop and does not reply, not fully trusting her voice, she just shakes her head in negation and promptly closes the door to her cabin. Once safely inside she leans heavily on the door and tries to regulate her breathing, her heart is beating so loud and fast that she thinks it could burst out of her chest.

 

**_Jon_ **

He was not sleeping deeply, so when he heard the door opening, he was about to open his eyes but some instinct prevented him from doing that. He watched the intruder through his eyelashes. This intruder had an unmistakeable silver hair cascading on her back. She was very careful to close the door as quietly as she could. That was curious. She tiptoed to the bed and sat in the same place as before. 

“I see that you can’t keep away from me, Your Grace,” he said without opening his eyes. He made her jump, he felt the mattress move. “Don’t worry I won’t run. I actually can’t do that now.” He opened his eyes. She is flustered, she looks down at the hands in her lap. ‘She is even worse at jokes than me’ he thinks amused. To be fair, his jokes were usually bad, back at Castle Black, Edd always complained about it.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says guiltily. “I’m sorry.” It sounds like the theme of his day.

“No. I… I just came to… to see if you are any better,” she finished on a more confident note.

“I am better now,” he replies. ‘Better because she is here and I can just look at her,’ he tells himself. That was his wish when he saw her beyond the Wall and the gods mercifully granted it. It would be playing with fire to ask for more, for the possibility of seeing her each time he wakes up.

He wonders why she is really here. “I’d like you to tell me about those scars on your chest,” she says quietly as if she heard him.

Ah, so it is just curiosity that brought her here. But something in what she said bothers him though. What is it? Oh yes, she said ‘scars’, not ‘a scar’. He is pretty sure only one scar is visible now from under the fur rug. How did she…? His suspicions about how she could possibly see the rest make him blush.

“Is that what Ser Davos was talking about on the first day?” she insists.

He knew that she would not forget it that easily. “Your Grace,” he starts reluctantly. “I promise to tell you all about it someday, you have my word. Just not tonight.”

“It’s not a pleasant story,” he adds.

She watches him closely but she nods in agreement. He is afraid now that she will leave him again. “Tell me about Essos,” he asks. “I have never been anywhere other than the North. I’d like to hear about all those places you have been to.” He smiles at her gently.

“It’s not a pleasant story either,” she smiles back at him but with a sadness in her voice.

Once again he reaches for her hand, she allows it and does not remove her hand either. “Just pick the good bits then,” he tries.

She smiles more broadly at this and she slowly starts to tell him about the Grass Sea where Dothraki live, the Red Waste, Yunkai, Mereen. At one point he starts to play with her hand and they even intertwine their fingers, she is relaxed and mostly smiling. He thinks that he has never been as happy as he is now.

They talk long into the night. They keep holding hands.

 

 

 


	5. Two Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some mature scenes so if you’re not into it or shouldn’t be just skip it.

**Two Dragons**

 

**_Daenerys_ **

Preparations and planning for the anticipated meeting at King’s Landing nearly took most of their energy. She barely had the time to talk to Jon alone again. He was better now and walked around the ship but Davos seemed to be his constant companion so their conversations were naturally limited to the subjects of the meeting with Cersei. She knew her duty, she is the queen and the matters of politics should be a priority; matters of the heart had to wait, maybe indefinitely.

Her studied regal pose is like a second nature to her by now. She carefully avoids the eye contact with Jon, as much as she can, that is. When alone, her usually disciplined mind wanders. When she closes her eyes she sees their hands together, she reminisces the pleasure his touch has given her, and his eyes, his voice, his… She has to interrupt herself forcefully. There is no time for that.

They stopped at Dragonstone but as everything and everyone was ready. She was the only one that was being left behind. The rest boarded the ships. She stood on the beach with only her Dothraki guards for company. She stood there for a very long time, until the ships disappeared from view completely. She saw one lonely figure standing apart from others to the very end, a figure who looked in her direction; even when everyone else on board seemed to disappear, the figure was still there, still looking. It was the unmistakable shape of Jon Snow.

She walks slowly to the cliff. It seems like only yesterday she came here and her three beautiful children were sweetly reposing there. When she reaches Drogon and Rhaegal, they both raise their heads and gently whine. She does not care if the Dothraki see it, she falls to her knees and weeps.

 

**_Jon_ **

He hoped that he could see her alone again. His recovery was mercifully fast but he waited in his cabin for her visit. When she did not come, he could not just lie there like a log. So he got up and got dressed. As he was fastening the sword, there was a knock and he heard the door opening, he turned quickly with a smile on his face but it was only Davos. He tried not to show his disappointment.

In fact Davos followed him everywhere, like Ghost did when it was a pup. They will soon reach Dragonstone and all they can talk about now is the best way to approach Cersei, to convince her. He steals glances at Daenerys but she seems unapproachable, back to being a queen. Gone is Daenerys who smiled, laughed and held hands with him. He knows that it is a smart choice for her, and it should be for him, but he misses her. She is right here and he misses her, it pains him not to be able to touch her. 

“Ser Sandor…” she addresses the gloomy mountain of a man sitting at the far end of the table.

“I’m not a ser,” interrupts the Hound brusquely, then he adds in a grudgingly polite if slightly sarcastic way, “… Your Grace.”

Jon is about to say something but Daenerys continues unperturbed. “Well, at least we need you to look like one. When we reach Dragonstone, I want you to find some proper clothing, You’ll be representing the King in the North after all.”

Both Jon and Clegane start to say something but they are forestalled by Davos, “We’ll take care of it, Your Grace.”

She smiles at this but it is a different smile, Jon knows now her true smile and he admires how she manages to be civil even to the Hound, who mumbled something unrecognisable under his breath.

Dragonstone stop was not a long one. Jon did not even bother to go ashore as there really was no point. Well, there was one but he could hardly talk to her on the beach when everyone was sure to be watching them closely.

Instead he found a solitary spot on the deck, where he could watch her tiny, lonely figure on the beach when they were sailing away.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

She circled King’s Landing twice, she wanted to make sure that there were no surprises in store for them. She saw the Greyjoy’s fleet, she saw Lannister soldiers on the ramparts, and she paid particular attention if there were no visible weapons aimed at her dragons, as the one she burned during the battle. More or less satisfied, she told Drogon to land in Dragonpit. Drogon did not let her down, he showed everyone how powerful he is. She hoped everyone got the message, especially Cersei.

She did not rush to her seat, even if she knew everyone was waiting for her. She smiled inwardly at Cersei’s caustic remark on her lateness. ‘If Cersei wants to be a queen she should control her face more,’ she thinks.

She nods at Tyrion to start the proceedings. He is immediately interrupted by a man sitting in Cersei’s camp. As there were no introductions, she assumes it to be Euron Greyjoy, the one who attacked her  fleet. She is amazed at the crudity of the man, he looks and sounds like a simpleton and yet he managed to hurt her, she senses that this is a dangerous man, a man not to be trusted, she wonders why Cersei trusts him. For some reason he listens to Cersei when she orders him to sit. Daenerys was always a keen observer, she knows now that their alliance is fickle, out of necessity rather than loyalty, he only obeys because he needs something from Cersei, and Cersei barely tolerates the man. She makes a mental note of it.

She sees Jon getting up and trying to explain the reasons they all came here. This is not what they planned, so she tenses slightly, she knows that he is quick to lose his temper. But she is relieved to hear that he is calm and composed, it is the king speaking. She is very proud of him, she knew that she admired him for a reason. She cannot take her eyes off him, but she forces herself to take a look at Cersei, as she suspected Cersei is not convinced by any of this. Daenerys feels slightly ashamed, Cersei’s reaction reminds her so much of her own when she first heard Jon’s warning. This is what pride and self-importance do to people. This is a lesson for her.

“If my brother Jaime has informed me correctly, you’re asking me for a truce,” Cersei suddenly turns to her.

“Yes,” she replies. “That’s all.”

Cersei clearly does not believe it and spews accusations against her just wanting to attack the capital with more men. Daenerys stares calmly back, her face betrays nothing, whilst Cersei’s is full of rage.

“Your capital will be safe until the Northern threat is dealt with,” Daenerys replies coldly. “You have my word.”

Cersei’s body pose is like the one of a wild animal ready to spring upon his prey when she calls Daenerys a ‘would-be usurper’. Tyrion interrupts their exchange and the wooden crate is being brought in by the Hound.

When she sees the dead man running towards Cersei, she knows that it has worked, as it did for her. Cersei should now understand. Jon tells them how important is this war, war against the dead. Cersei seems to be paralysed with fear but says nothing. “I didn’t believe it until I saw them,” Daenerys tries to find a common ground with Cersei. “I saw them all.”

Euron admits that he is terrified of it and decides to go back to his islands. He has the cheek to give her advice to do the same and she is pretty sure he suggested the two of them as being together after the winter. She assumes that this confirms what Theon said about him. She is disgusted but her face remains impassive.

“The Crown accepts the truce,” Cersei finally speaks, she seems to acknowledge the threat and is willing to participate in the effort to fight it. Under one condition however: Jon’s fealty to Cersei.

Jon looked at her and she tried to convey the message with her eyes that it is a wise thing to do to agree to Cersei’s demands at the moment. But then she hears him saying that he is pledged to her and cannot agree to Cersei’s demands. There is a rush of emotions running through her body. She is rejoiced that he stayed true to her; she is mortified that the negotiations are lost; she admires him and she thinks he made a mistake. And there is Viserion. The thought of him is like a cold stab to the heart.

When Cersei leaves the Dragonpit, Daenerys briskly walks to Jon. “I’m grateful for your loyalty,” she says, but her voice is unsteady. “But my dragon died so that we could be here. If it’s all for nothing, then he died for nothing.”

“I know!” he replies angrily. She looks at him closely. He did an honourable thing, he kept his word, he risked it all for his honour. She should have known this, she should have known that this is exactly who he is. That this is a part of him that she fell in love too. He is not stupid, he knows it was unfortunate but then he could not do anything different because that is who he is. And she loves him exactly how he is. Broodiness, stubbornness, sense of duty and honour, she loves it all too.

When Tyrion asks him why he did not lie, Jon goes on explaining that the truth is important, and even if it is the hard way, he is determined to follow that path. His word has to mean something in the world of lies that surrounds us all. The truth is that hearing him say those things she felt more and more aroused. There he is, this man full of ideals, he may be naïve but she feels she is the same. And even though their situation is rather dire at the moment, she never wanted him more than right now.

 

**_Jon_ **

No matter how many times he saw it, when he heard the screech of a dragon he jumped from his seat just to look at her. His magnificent, beautiful, tiny queen on the back of no less magnificent dragon. He felt proud, he was not sure of what, but he was proud when Drogon landed and Daenerys walked slowly towards her seat. He glanced at Cersei to see her reaction, she was not pleased. Her entrance with her guards was nothing in comparison with Daenerys’s. ‘This is going to be interesting,’ he thought.

He watches Daenerys and she acknowledges his presence first, only then she gives a side glance at Cersei. Cersei voice betrays her feelings, his queen is calm and composed; again, he could not have been prouder.

He listens patiently first to the squabble with Euron Greyjoy, then to Tyrion slowly easing everyone into the problem at hand. But he is impatient, these are word games between Tyrion and Cersei, this is not a time for word games. When Cersei sneers at ‘living in harmony’, he suddenly gets up. “This isn’t about living in harmony. It’s just about living,” he says quickly, facing Cersei. Then he calmly tries to explain the danger that is looming over them all. Her face is telling him that she does not believe him. He went through this before with Daenerys. This time he promised himself to try to be more convincing, give more arguments.

“Lord Tyrion tells me a million people live in this city. They’re about to become a million more soldiers in the army of the dead,” he explains.

“I imagine for most of them, it would be an improvement,” Cersei quips.

He is angry now but tries not to show it, this woman mocks him but he is not here to be offended, he is here to make them understand.  He steps closer to Cersei. “This is serious,” he says in a deep voice. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t.”

Cersei thinks it all a bad joke. ‘Another stubborn queen,’ he thinks. The only difference he sees now is that Daenerys was more admirable as an opponent.

Cersei ignores him and asks Daenerys if all they want is the truce. When she confirms it, Cersei tries to provoke Daenerys. He is happy to see that his queen does not take the bait. And he is relieved to hear Tyrion proposing to show Cersei the gift they brought from beyond the Wall, it breaks the tension.

He watches closely Cersei’s reaction to the attacking wight. She is scared. Good. Maybe that will change her attitude.

He calmly explains how the wight can be killed. He finally got their attention. “If we don’t win this fight, then that is the fate of every person in the world.” He walks closer to Cersei again. “There’s only one war that matters. The Great War. And it is here,” he finishes.

With Daenerys’s help, he thinks they convinced the Lannisters. Euron decided to leave and go back to Pyke to wait it all out. But before he goes, he walks towards Daenerys. “I’m going back to my island,” he says to her. “You should go back to yours. When winter’s over, we’ll be the only ones left alive.”

Jon is watching him leave, if the circumstances were different, there is a high probability that he might have beaten Euron to pulp. The thought of this creature near Daenerys, saying suggestive things, made his blood boil.

Then he hears Cersei say that she accepts the truce until the common enemy is defeated. He sighs with relief. It worked. Maybe all this hardship was worth it after all. But he stops in his tracks. “In return, the King in the North will extend this truce,” Cersei continues. “He will remain in the North where he belongs. He will not take up the arms against the Lannisters, he will not choose sides.” She even dares to recall Ned Stark, she has no shame, Lannisters executed his father and now she is saying that she believes Ned Stark’s son will be true to his word.

Just when he thought it was easy. He looks at Davos who seems to agree. Daenerys does not seem to object either; when he looked at her, she seemed to give him the slightest of nods.

But he cannot. Just simply cannot.

“I am true to my word. Or I try to be,” he says finally. “That is why I cannot give you what you ask. I cannot serve two queens.” A spasm of distaste and hatred goes through Cersei’s face. “And I have already pledged myself to Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen.”

“Then there is nothing left to discuss,” says Cersei and leaves Dragonpit quickly.

Davos is disappointed and does not omit to tell him that. Then Daenerys comes over and she seems to be angry with him too. Well, maybe not angry, but she reminds him that her dragon died for this, as if he did not know it or feel guilty about it already. He responds angrily but she does not leave, he can feel she is looking at him. He is unable to look into her eyes now.

And now Tyrion joins in. “Have you ever considered learning how to lie now and then?” he asks sarcastically. “Just a bit?”

Jon cannot control himself any longer. “I’m not gonna swear an oath I can’t uphold,” he blurts out. “Talk about my father if you want, tell me that’s the attitude that got him killed. But when enough people make false promises, words stop meaning anything. Then there are no more answers, only better and better lies. And lies won’t help us in this fight.”

He believes in every word he said. But then he is shot down with Tyrion’s reply. “The more immediate problem is that we’re fucked.”

 

**_Daenerys_ **

She is not happy. Every member of their delegations is lost in thought and unhappy. The meeting got out of hand. And speaking of hands, her own Hand went to Cersei alone and she does not know if he survives it. She looks at Jon who walks away from everyone. Her broody Northerner. She walks to him.

He notices her and he apparently tries to forestall any further complaints from her. “No one is less happy about this than I am,” he says toying with the little jawbone of a dragon who lived here so many years ago.

She did not come to complain. She wants him to know it that even if she wishes he had not done it, she understands and accepts. What is more she admires him for it. She wants to be close to him but as everyone is surely watching them she reaches for the bone he is holding as an equivalent of contact.

She tells him about her family, Dragonpit and dragons. She feels rather melancholy. Her family, once glorious and extraordinary, let themselves become like everyone else. She hands him back the dragon bone and his fingers touch hers for the shortest of moments. She missed his touch since their trip back from Eastwatch. Or rather from the moment he touched her arm in that cave on Dragonstone.

“You’re not like everyone else,” he tells her and she feels that she can believe in anything he says, if he says it in that voice that seduces her senses. Her heart is beating faster again. He steps closer to her. The last time their faces were that close, they were in the cave. She tries to steady her heart.

“And your family hasn’t seen its end,’ he tells her. She is drowning in his eyes, this is dangerous. “You’re still here,” he continues. ‘I am,’ she thinks ‘but I’m the last one’. She reminds him again about it.

“Who told you that?” he asks. He is so straightforward sometimes. She tries to explain but he does not seem to believe her. He tries to console her, she thinks. She is touched but it is very painful. Especially when she has to admit it to him. This wonderful, extraordinary man whom she thought annoying. Gods, she was so stupid. She should have known that this is not a man who toys with people and lie to them.

“You were right from the beginning,” she tells him. “If I trusted you, everything would be different.” She hopes he will understand that this is a kind of apology. Apology for her blindness, she always thought that she was such a good judge of character and yet she failed to see what a wonderful and unique person he is.

He is magnanimous and does not comment on it, just gives her the warmest of smiles. “So what now?” he asks.

“I can’t forget what I saw north of the Wall. And I can’t pretend that Cersei won’t take back half the country the moment I march north,” she says calmly. This is a setback. They are back where they were before Viserion died, only now there is no Viserion.

As Jon quotes Tyrion she cannot help smiling and that shared smile of silly hilarity bonds her even closer to him, if it is even possible. Thank the gods, even in this dire circumstances, Jon is the person who makes her smile, it is probably worth more than all the thrones in the world.

 

**_Jon_ **

It should be him going to Cersei. It was his fault that she left in a hurry. But he also knows that Tyrion was right. If there were any person who could talk to Cersei now, Jon would be the last on the list. He purposefully strolls from others. He wants to be alone with his anger and disappointment.

He hears footsteps approaching, thinking it was Davos, he is pleasantly surprised that it is her. But at the same time he knows that she is going to whinge about his actions, so he acknowledges that he understands the situation before she has any chance to speak.

“I know,” she says gently, and tone of her voice makes his heart beat faster. “I respect what you did. Wish you hadn’t done it but I respect it.” She comes closer so he dares to look at her. She reaches for the dragon bone he had picked up in his sulking walk. “This place was the beginning of the end of my family’” she says.

“A dragon is not a slave,” she quotes from somewhere he supposes. As her eyes wander he has the opportunity to stare at her and study every inch of her exquisite face. “They were terrifying, extraordinary. They filled people with wonder and awe. And we locked them in here. They wasted away. They grew small. And we grew small as well. We weren’t extraordinary without them. We were just like everyone else.” Listening to her, he thinks it is as if she was talking about herself. She is a dragon, born out of fire. But he knows she is nothing but extraordinary, she is one in a million of millions. And he must be a favourite of gods that he was fortunate enough to meet her. He watches her eyes, her lips and all he can think about at the moment is kissing her long and hard. He would give anything for that privilege.

She hands him back the fossil and he touches her fingers for the briefest of moments. It feels like touching the lightning. He would like to be even closer to her but as he glances back at the others, he knows they are being watched. So he only tells her that she is extraordinary, looking deeply into her eyes. He needs to be closer to her, close enough that he can smell her foreign perfume again; and he does not care now  if the others see them.

Again she tells him that she cannot have children. Yes, well, there is that. He was meaning to ask her about that earlier but he had no real opportunity and it is not an easy subject of conversation. But since she brought it up… He wants to know who told her that she is so sure.

“The witch who murdered my husband,” she replies. Well, well, well, that is interesting. This is the same feisty woman who told him that she does not believe in myths and legends on the first day they met. Suddenly some murderous witch is the source of wisdom? In other circumstances he would have teased her about it, but he sees in her face how painful the subject is so he tries to promote his idea gently. “Has it occurred to you that she might not have been a reliable source of information?” he asks, and there is this nagging thought at the back of his head that he would like to prove the witch wrong. She smiles gently but apparently she is eager to change the subject. He cannot focus, he watches her lips, her neck, her breasts.

She tells him that she was wrong not to trust him at the beginning. His heart melts at this. To think that such a proud, strong-willed and self-assured woman is willing to admit it to him brings all kinds of guilt within him. If she apologises, he should have begged for forgiveness. Knowing her as well as he does now, he is ashamed of thinking of her as this privileged, spoilt and arrogant girl, who demanded just blind obedience. He misjudged her sorely. He does not need a guilt trip now. Now he needs to change the subject.

As the subject is handy, he asks what they are going to do now. She obviously makes a fair point that at the moment she is torn between helping him against the White Walkers and protecting Westeros from Cersei, the breathing monster.

Well, she is right. The situation is dreadful. This conversation is getting more and more depressing. “It appears Tyrion’s assessment was correct,” he says finally. She looks at him uncomprehendingly.

“We’re fucked,” he explains. She smiles again and it is the greatest reward in the world.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

She is relieved to have Jon and Jorah planning the military strategy. As much as she appreciated Tyrion, his strongest point is diplomacy. Both Jon and Jorah have the necessary experience. She is much happier listening to their advice regarding the movements of troops.

It seems Jon wants to converge the forces around Winterfell. He plans to sail to White Harbour. He wants her to sail with him. Well, not exclusively her but all of them from Dragonstone. And that idea does not seem to lie easily with Jorah. He wants her to fly to Winterfell on Drogon. He is worried that as many in the North fought against the Targaryens in the rebellion, the animosity towards her may be a risk to her life as they may see her as the conqueror.

She appreciates Jorah’s concern about her. He was always there for her and always was worried about her safety. Maybe she should ride Drogon to Winterfell?

“It’s your decision, Your Grace,” says Jon. “But if we’re going to be allies in this war, it’s important for the Northerners to see us as allies. If we sail to White Harbour together, I think it sends a better message.”

She should be torn with indecision. They both made strong points. But as far as she sees it, it is a choice between her being alone and her being together with Jon. Well, and others obviously.

Everyone is looking at her. That should not be so disconcerting, she is used to that. She composes herself and slowly explains looking at Jorah why she is going to the North. She is not a conqueror, she wants to save them from monsters.

Only then she looks directly at Jon. She does not know if he meant what she thinks he meant but she made her decision. She does not want to be alone anymore. “We sail together.”

He holds her gaze only for a short moment and then he looks nervously at the map. Maybe she did understand wrongly what he meant.

For the first time ever, her making a decision made her a little apprehensive. She does not know what to do with her hands.

 

**_Jon_ **

Their journey back to Dragonstone was less tense. Both Tyrion and Varys, even if aware of the concept of White Walkers, after seeing the wight in action so to speak, were eager to get more details. Jon tried to tell them everything he knew with the help from Ser Jorah.

She did not join the conversations, he saw her standing alone on the deck but was unable to extricate himself from the company without raising suspicions.

Dragonstone was a busy time too. Packing the dragonglass and organising transport took nearly all of his time. He hardly ever saw her, short and meaningless exchanges during supper. And to his chagrin they never sat close or at least opposite each other.

Once he thought he saw her alone on the cliff with Drogon and Rhaegal; he even started to go there when he was accosted by Gendry who was adamant that he needed to see the new weapons they devised.

The only time he spoke to her was in the War Room when they planned the placement of the armies.

He told himself he did not do it on purpose. He did not propose that Dany sail with them on the boat on purpose. And he did not emphasise ‘together’ and did not look at her at the same time on purpose.

It just came about naturally. Sort of.

Ser Jorah opposed his plan and probably rightly warned her of potential threats from the Northerners. But he knew that as long as he was there, well, and Ser Jorah, they would protect her with their lives. Well, so would Drogon but that is not the point.

He tries once again to make Daenerys understand that arriving together would be seen better. They all look at her in silence.

“I’ve not come to conquer the North. I’m coming to save the North,” she finally says. He just looks at her, it is his favourite pastime after all.

She finally turns to him and says that they will sail together. Something about the way she said it makes him afraid that she will see in his eyes the truth.  He lowers his gaze and only when he is sure she is not looking at him anymore, he raises his eyes to her beautiful face.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

She is distracted. She cannot focus on anything. They left Dragonstone late in the day and now the sun is already setting. She told Missandei that she was not really hungry but some food and wine miraculously appeared on the table when she stood by the window and was looking at the sea.

She cannot find a place for herself in this room. Something is bothering her but she does not know what it is. Is she afraid of going to Winterfell after all? No, that is not it.

She starts to pace her cabin nervously. Suddenly there is a knock on the door. Finally, a distraction. She walks briskly towards the door and opens it.

Jon.

She is surprised and not surprised at all. Maybe she never admitted it to herself but this is what she wanted. This is what she decided when she agreed that they would sail together.

She is mesmerised by his eyes. He does not say a word and neither does she. What is there to say? She loves him. She slowly opens the door wider. He comes in and closes the door quickly. She just cannot take her eyes off him.

They stand in silence, just looking at each other, for her it felt like ages. Both as if pushed by some magical forces close the gap between them. His hand cups her cheek and he grazes it with a thumb, a shiver runs down her spine. She does not remember since when she had been waiting for this. She feels that her knees are giving in, so she steadies herself by putting both of her hands on his chest.  Slowly, very slowly their lips meet, it is like a discovery of a new land. They start slowly and tenderly but very soon their kiss intensifies. His lips are soft and warm, and when his tongue slides into her mouth, the primeval moan escapes her. He pulls her closely at the waist and their kiss lasts thousands of years, unhurried, deep and the sweetest of all kisses in the world. When they part for breath, she opens her eyes and stares into his, she feels like drowning into the infinite darkness that engulfs her.

She starts to undress him slowly, his hands follow her suit and he slowly extricates her from her clothes. There is this brief thought that passes her mind that he had not really planned for this moment as a good battle commander should, there are so many clothes that need to be taken off. But she is not in a hurry. She wants to celebrate every second of them being together.

When they are finally free of clothes and they are standing facing each other naked, she wants to kiss every inch of his body, but she paces herself. She finally breaks the spellbinding eye contact and starts to place light, delicate kisses on his scars. She feels actual pain thinking that anyone would like to hurt him. And there are so many of these scars. To reach the last one she nearly kneels but then she feels herself lifted and her lips are almost devoured by him. They hold each other tightly so she can feel his arousal and it matches hers. She is grateful that he leads them to bed. Their kisses are more than she ever experienced. It is not that her lips are kissing him, her whole body worships him. The actual fire never burned her but the heat emanating from his body is almost more than she can bear. She has never wanted anyone so much.

When he entered her, it was like the heavens opened and she could almost scream from the bliss she felt. And for the first time she was not alone, it was like their minds merged as much as their bodies did.

She is surprised when he breaks their kiss and slightly pulls away from her. His hand gently strokes her head. He says nothing, he just looks at her. She feels him inside her and they are as one. She fights the tears that want to well up in her eyes. This is almost too much. Her love for him overpowers her, it is overflowing her soul and body. It is like a dream that she never wants to wake up from. He is her life, her whole world, her past, her present and her future. She never knew what love was until she met this beautiful man, beautiful on the inside and out. She almost feels unworthy of being loved by such a man. Nothing is important now, it is just love between them that matters. There should be some other word for what she feels for him. ‘Love’ is not enough. She would sacrifice everything to live in this moment forever. She is his and he is hers. Looking into his eyes is like being home. She always dreamed of the house with the red door and the lemon tree where she would feel like at home. Being in his arms is like being home.

When they resume their motions and kisses, she begs all the gods that there are, that this night would never end.

 

**_Jon_ **

She did not come for supper. He felt too awkward to ask where she was as he was the only one whose eyes darted to the door each time someone opened it. He was not hungry, so he just drank some ale. It is pointless. Why does he even sit here? Trying not to draw the attention to himself, he stands up and walks out of the room without a word to anyone. He notices Davos and Tyrion looking at him but he ignores their stares.

Back in his cabin, he feels like a wolf in a cage, pacing it to and fro. He knows what he wants but he is somewhat reluctant to act upon his desires. He was never selfish in his actions. This feels like a selfish act. He knows it is a bad time. They are at war for survival, he should not be distracted. His duty to the North and all people of Westeros is a priority.

But he knows what he wants, he knows what he needs more than anything now. He walks out of his cabin and goes to her door. This door is the last barrier. He knows that if he crosses that threshold, he will be a different Jon Snow. Just as much as he knows what he wants, he thinks and hopes that she wants it too. Well, there is only one way to find out. He raises his fist to knock, he hesitates for a moment and then knocks briefly on the door.

The door opens and he is greeted by a vision of ethereal, stunning beauty. There are no words, he loves her, he can only just stare at her, waiting for the sentence. There is this apprehension that she could reject his advances. He was never so afraid in his entire life. She does not say a word. She stares back at him. He almost trembles. Then she pushes the door open. He feels like he is walking on clouds.

Even the fact that he can touch her seems like a dream; her skin is exactly like he imagined in his lonely moments. He slowly places his lips on hers and he feels that there is no tomorrow. It is only now.

When she starts to undress him, his hands go to her intricate robe, he never trained for this occasion and he finds it complicated. He instinctively knows that he does not have to rush and part of him is grateful for it, this dress is more hard work for him than his armour.

He finally sees her in all her natural splendour. He does not remember what he imagined but her body is more spectacular than in his wildest dreams. He wants to explore every tiny bit of it. He solemnly promises himself that he will do so tonight. There is no hurry. But his own body clearly signals his readiness.

When she starts kissing his wounds, all the unease about them disappears. Each of his scars are covered with kisses light as a butterfly touch. His breath shortens and as she kneels to kiss the scar that is the lowest on his body, he can wait no longer, he grabs her arms and pulls her up to face him. He needs her lips like he needs the air. With his arms wound tightly around her, he steers them towards the bed. They fall on it heavily with her on top of him. He wants to feel her with his whole body, he keeps her tightly close, his hands hold her precious head like a holy treasure. He is hungry for her kisses. He knows he should be patient. But there is this animal in him that he can hardly keep in check. Especially as the skin on his thigh tells him that she is more than ready for him. With one swift move, he rolls her over and nearly crushes her tiny body. So he positions himself better, grabs her thigh and enters her. They gasp in unison. His movements are slow but with powerful thrusts. Her moans of delight come at the same time as his own.

Suddenly it all feels too much. He pulls his upper body away from her and simply looks at her. This is unreal. He holds in his arms the most beautiful woman in the world, the woman he loves with all his being, the woman who loves him back. He is not a poet, he cannot find appropriate words. The world stopped existing. It is only him and her. He never felt this way. Ever. His body trembles, this is almost more than he can bear. He is inside her and this is where he wants to stay. He wants to cherish that moment. His heart is beating so fast that he feels his chest will burst any moment now. It is as if there is no air left in his lungs. He breathes heavily. So this is how it feels to be completely overcome with love. There is absolutely nothing he would not do for her. She is his whole world. And the sweetest thing of all, he is hers and she is his. He would have never thought it possible that one can love so much.

With a newly found fervour he continues his labour of love.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

She is panting from exhaustion, her body still gently shakes in the aftermath of pleasure. They are both lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I want some wine,” she finally says. “Do you want some too?” She feels he is looking at her, so she turns her face towards him. He is smiling at her, they both start to laugh as you do when the tension is broken. She just loves to see him laughing and smiling.

He nods so she slowly gets out of bed and walks towards the table. She pours wine into the goblet, sips a little from it to quench her thirst, and turns back towards the bed. He is sitting in bed now, reclining on the headboard and looking at her body with a gentle smile on his face. Well, she does not need to ask, she knows that he likes what he sees. She gives him the wine and he drinks it, but his face says it all. “I still prefer ale,” he confesses.

“We’ll have some ale next time,” she says. They smile at each other. ‘Next time’, she thinks. She has accepted them so matter-of-factly but it is not so straightforward as she would like it to be. The looming war, the reaction of the Northern lords, the uncertainty of it all.

She trembles when she hears him say that he loves her. There are no words that can describe what she feels for him. He is a part of her forever, whatever the future brings, she is not alone anymore.

They kiss and her hands go to his hair, she was too busy before but now her need to run her hand through his hair is overpowering. She expertly loosens his bun and sighs with pleasure when her fingers get entangled in his locks. She climbs on top of him. She wants him here and now. Again and again.

 

**_Jon_ **

He watches her walking naked to the table to get some wine. In the light of the moonlight seeping through the windows, she is almost shining, her hair is sparkly and her skin glistens from their exertions. Her hair is dishevelled though as his hands were greedy, gone is the elaborate, regal style and he likes it even more. She lazily reaches to her tresses and starts to let them loose with her fingers going slowly through her hair. It is the most exquisite moment he wants to treasure forever. Whatever the gods have for him in store, he will always have this moment.

And as much as he knows that there must be a ‘next time’ as she put it, time of war is such an unfortunate time for love. He knows his priorities and they have not changed, he will not allow himself to be distracted like Robb did. This is different, she is a warrior, she is aware of the risk and she is brave. It is a good and a bad thing at the same time. He recalls Ser Jorah’s wishes that Longclaw may serve his children after him. She said that she could not have children, so this dream may not really come true, if they were to believe the witch. But there might be future for both of them, if they both survive this. She completes him. There is no future without her. She is his future. She is exactly what he has been looking for without really realising it.

They lay embraced facing each other, his heart is filled with emotions.

“I love you so very much,” he whispers into her temple and then tenderly kisses her right brow. He was never much for talking about his feelings, or talking in general, but he felt such a strong need to say it, that nothing could have stopped him.

Her face is positively glowing with happiness, and as always the realisation that he can just look at her takes his breath away. “I… I love you more,” she whispers.

“I really don’t think people can even love more than this,” he says with a smile.

“You’re forgetting that I’m a dragon,” she replies with a cheeky smile and kisses him tenderly at first, soon their kiss gets more and more intense and deeper. She lets out a moan, that sends shivers down his spine and stirs the desire in his underbelly area.

Not really breaking their kiss, she drags herself on top of him, his hands wander all over her back. Then she starts kissing his neck, then his chest, his stomach. He closes his eyes for a moment to enjoy it more, but he wants to see her. He looks at this unbelievable woman as she takes him into her core, making them both gasp. She is like the army ready for a battle, beautiful but terrifying. She is everything he ever wanted.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

She wakes slowly as the sun tickles her nose. She lies on her side with Jon behind her, tightly wound around her body. She smiles blissfully. Jon’s hand cups her breast. This is the best awakening of all. She gently reaches for his hand and brings it to her lips, she plants the most tender kiss she can muster. Then she feels his lips on her neck. The wave of pleasure overcomes her. She turns her head to meet those hungry lips of his. Without breaking their kiss, she turns her body to face him.

“Good morning, my queen,” he whispers when they part for breath. She kisses him again as her form of greeting. Their kiss intensifies and she knows how it would end. There is no force strong enough to break them apart. He pulls her to himself even tighter, her hand goes to his round buttocks that she admired so much last night. He kisses her neck, then her collarbone. 

“I think I should go before anyone notices,” mumbles Jon into her skin.

“Just kiss me,” she whispers. He obeys his queen without a word.

 

**_Jon_ **

“I’m surprised you can walk,” Tyrion’s voice startled him when Jon finally made to the deck. He turns sharply in the direction of the voice. Tyrion is looking at him, smiling quizzically, with unreadable face.

He understands to what is Tyrion referring and feels himself blushing. He does not know if Daenerys would like for everyone to know. “What do you mean?” he offers.

“Oh, come off it,” chuckles Tyrion. “You have to realise that it is not such a massive ship as one would imagine.”

Jon is mortified and desperately tries to find an appropriate reply. “Don’t worry,” says Tyrion quietly. “It’s not a common knowledge… yet. It’s just our queen’s cabin is next to mine. And you’re both very… vocal.”

Jon is silent. “It wasn’t the most comfortable night for me, I have to admit,” Tyrion continues. “But I admire your stamina. Ah, youth, eh?”

Jon is staring at the sea. As he cannot find the right words to address it, he prefers to stay silent. He supposes Tyrion would finally get to the point. He is eventually rewarded. “What are you going to do about it?” Tyrion asks.

Jon looked at Tyrion abruptly. Do about it? What is he to do about it? What exactly does Tyrion mean? If this is again one of his word games, he has no patience for it now. The war is coming and it is rather about that, everyone should be concerned. And he does not know the answer to that question anyway.

He did not plan to fall in love so deeply at this time. He tried to fight it, suppress it. But it was stronger than him. He does not regret any minute of it. With her by his side he feels stronger. He is no longer alone.

 

 

 

 


	6. Winterfell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mildly mature scenes.

**Winterfell**

 

 

**_Daenerys_ **

Even if the world ends tomorrow, she would always be grateful for those days they spent on this ship. Those stolen moments of happiness and true bliss. She lives for them.

They are in her cabin, lying in each other’s arms. Her head is on his chest and the steady beat of his heart soothes her.

“I have an idea,” she tells him raising her head and looking into his eyes.

“I thought we’ve tried all of them already,” he interrupts smiling. “And a few more.”

For a brief moment she does not get his meaning as she is so focused on her thought. Finally she smiles bashfully. “That’s not what I meant,” she explains.

“Do you remember that time on the cliff when you touched Drogon?” she asks. He nods thoughtfully. “I’ve been thinking, you missed your opportunity of flying on him.” Involuntarily her minds recalls the circumstances but she quickly dismisses it from her head. “If Drogon accepted you, would you like to try it with Rhaegal?” she asks. He looks at her uncomprehendingly. “I’m thinking, if you rode Rhaegal and I Drogon we would be unstoppable. Now Rhaegal only follows Drogon but on his own he would be glorious if he had anyone to guide him.” Her mind goes to Viserion again. “And probably safer,” she adds quietly.

“But why do you think he would listen to me?” he asks incredulously.  “How do you even control Drogon’s actions?”

“I talk to them in my mind,” she says. “And I say things aloud from time to time. I could teach you.”

He laughs at that. “I’m not a Mother of Dragons and I’m not a Targaryen, so I can’t see how it would work.”

“Hmmm,” she muses. “I still think we should try.” Her dreams come true, she always knew that. And in her dreams she saw herself and Jon riding dragons. “Just imagine us arriving at Winterfell on dragons.”

He cups her cheek with his hand and steers her closer to his face. He looks deeply into her eyes and as usual she melts inside. What is it about this wonderful man that she finds so irresistible? They kiss tenderly for a long time. When they pause for breath, his face is suddenly very serious even if his eyes look at her lovingly. She is almost scared. She wonders what is wrong. Has anything happened? Has she said anything that she should not?

“I want us to be together till the end of our days. And I think we should marry if you’ll have me,” he says finally after a long pause. “Winterfell would be a good place for it as any.”

Her heart is beating very fast now. She knows she should consult at least Tyrion, she never thought she would ever marry out of love and not for political reasons. This is the wrong time for those sort of things. But she knows that there is no life for her without him. She should hesitate but there is no hesitation in her. 

“You really should bend the knee,” she says finally in a serious voice.

“I would but I’m nak-“ She does not let him finish, she smiles and kisses him with all her ancestral ferocity. She breaks the kiss only to whisper, “Yes, you Northern fool.” They kiss again with doubled energy.

 

**_Jon_ **

If the winds are good, he is told, they should reach White Harbour tomorrow evening.  He feels a little apprehensive. Well, maybe not a little. They started in sunshine and clear blue sky on Dragonstone. Now the dark clouds are hanging over their heads and a bitter cold wind is hitting his face. The weather has driven out almost everyone from the deck. He looks towards foggy outlines of the land on the horizon. Winter got worse in the North, his thoughts go to Winterfell. He sighs deeply. He remembers an ominous thundering sound coming from the northern direction some days ago. He still does not know what it was but it cannot be a good sign. He fears the worst.

He hears the quick footsteps approaching, he turns in their direction and smiles at this tiny figure with silver hair swept by the cold wind.

“Why are you here? What’s happened?” she asks anxiously.

“Nothing happened,” he smiles at her reassuringly.  “I just wanted to breathe some fresh air.”

She says that it is far too cold just to stand there. “I’m used to it,” he says gently. “I’ve spent many nights worse than this, standing on the Wall during my watch.” He sees that she starts to shiver, she does not have her coat on, just a dress. The same dress he had the problems with taking it off her some nights ago.

“Come here,” he says quietly, opening his cloak and spreading his arms. She steps in and leans her back on his chest. He puts his arms around her tightly to cover her from the cold. She is so tiny that his cloak easily covers them both. “Why were you looking for me?” he asks.

“I told Missandei, we will be having the supper in my cabin… I mean the two of us.”

“Does Missandei…” he starts. “She’s my friend,” she interrupts quickly. “And I thought that having those suppers in company of others is just a waste of time.”

He is amused by this but does not comment.

“Are you happy to reunite with your whole family at last?” she asks after a while.

“Aye,” says he. “I haven’t seen Arya and Bran since I left Winterfell for the Night’s Watch.” His mind wanders to those simpler times. How were they to know all this shit was coming their way?  He knows that reminiscing will not bring happy thoughts to his mind, so to avoid it he tries to change the subject slightly. “And I’m happy that you’ll meet my family. It’s only natural that they should meet you before…”

“I thought we were keeping it a secret,” she says quickly. “For now at least.”

“As we agreed,” he confirms. It all came about so quickly but not quickly enough in his opinion. And even if they both know it is the wrong time and there will be a lot of opposition, they agreed to go with it after she meets the Northern lords or even later. Maybe after they defeat the Night King. If they are still alive.

She was unhappy that he had already sent a message to Winterfell that he had pledged himself to her. She thought that it could wait. The fight against the White Walkers was more important. The alliance between them stood unconditionally so there was no need, in her opinion, to tell the Northern lords about something that may not even come true if they lose the fight against the Night King. He thought that she was worried the North might reject him as their king. She does not know that in his message to Sansa, he had already signed himself as the Warden of the North. Well, we will soon see what happens.

“I just want us to be together without hiding it from all the world,” he says simply.

She turns to face him, her arms wound tightly around his waist, her face is radiating with happiness. As always she takes his breath away. The novelty of looking at her never wears off. This extraordinary woman is his, he still cannot believe how fortunate he is.

He turns his head to look around if anyone can be seeing them, satisfied that it is not the case, he plunges into the deep, hungry kiss with the love of his life.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

Missandei was finishing upbraiding her hair. She always liked those quiet moments with just two of them. “If you don’t mind my saying, Your Grace,” Missandei breaks the silence. “I have never seen you so happy. Truly happy.”

“I am,” she says simply. And smiles at her friend. She is happy, even if at the back of her mind there is this foreboding of doom. There were never too much happiness in her life.

“Has anything happened?” asks Missandei with a smile.

“Many things,” replies Daenerys and they both share a little laugh.

There is a knock on her door. It is quite early so she is surprised that anyone should come for her. Unless there is some bad news. “Yes?” she says loudly but her voice betrays the apprehension.

Tyrion, Jon and Ser Davos enter the cabin. She is fearful now that something exceptionally bad has happened. She quickly glances on their faces. Tyrion’s is very serious, but Jon’s and Ser Davos’s are more unreadable. They look uneasy but rather from incomprehension than a dread.

“That is an unexpected pleasure,” she says coldly.

“Your Grace, forgive the intrusion, but we will be soon in White Harbour and there are some things we should discuss immediately before we land,” says Tyrion. She is slightly annoyed that she is faced with this situation without a notice. She looks searchingly at Jon, but he just shrugs his shoulders. So all this seems to be Tyrion’s idea.

“In that case,” she says calmly. “Shouldn’t Ser Jorah join us too then? And Varys?”

“I don’t think Ser Jorah should be here, Your Grace,” replies Tyrion. “I know that we all value his contribution but this is not the time. And perhaps, for different reasons I’d like to keep Varys out of it for the moment.”

Daenerys begins to feel annoyed by it all. It is rather obvious that nothing happened but the tone Tyrion is taking makes her uneasy. “It’s all starting to sound extremely mysterious,” she says half mockingly.

“Trust me, Your Grace,” says Tyrion. “It is in your best interest to keep it just between us four.”

Oh, no. She will not allow for Missandei to stay out of it. Whatever it is. She recalls that Missandei was not there when they decided to go beyond the Wall. It is not happening again. “No,” she says in a harsh voice. “Missandei stays.”

“Your Grace…” starts Tyrion.

“I’ve already decided,” she says really annoyed by now.

Tyrion sighs and slowly begins to explain the reason he brought Jon and Ser Davos to this meeting. He seems to be suggesting that everyone aboard the ship is aware of hers and Jon’s relationship. Only Tyrion describes it as ‘an affair’. In the middle of Tyrion’s speech, she started to look at Jon. He looks at Tyrion and she sees the anger raising in Jon. He brusquely interrupts Tyrion. But Tyrion is talking in a slightly raised voice now.

“May I be blunt?” continues Tyrion despite Jon’s interruption. “Whatever you call it, it’s a distraction. A weakness. An obstacle...”

“It’s neither of those things,” now it is Daenerys’s time to interrupt.

“Your Grace,” Tyrion begins again in a more composed voice. “Political alliances are fickle things. In the best of times they are a construct that requires the constant attention. And I’m afraid at this stage of war any unnecessary complications are districting us all from our goals…”

Once again he is interrupted by Daenerys. “First of all, I resent discussing my own private affairs with anyone other than the persons concerned. And secondly, I don’t see any signs of distraction. Aren’t we going to Winterfell to defeat the Night King and his army?” She is beyond being angry, this conversation is uncomfortable for all of them, she cannot make herself look at Jon.

“Your Grace, surely you must see that it only makes you both reckless and acting irrationally…” Tyrion tries to continue.

“I think that is enough, Lord Tyrion,” she says coldly. And tries to put as much in her look as she can. Tyrion is not satisfied, it is clear that he had so much more to say but she sees that he got the message. He sighs in frustration. She knows that Tyrion voiced some of her own thoughts but she still feels hurt when they are discussed so openly.

She is almost grateful to Ser Davos for wanting to end this unpleasant scene.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” the quiet voice of Missandei, usually so calming, brings a new apprehension in Daenerys. Will it never end?

“I do not have the experience of Lord Tyrion,” continues Missandei. “But it seems that some of the strongest political alliances are made through marriage. Is it not a possible solution that should be considered here?”

Daenerys is almost amused by this but she controls her face, even if her eyes express gratitude towards Missandei. She may be the only voice of reason here. Daenerys does not dare to look at Jon.  But then she transfers her gaze towards Tyrion. He is still fuming but he looks at Missandei as everyone else in the room does. His face is inscrutable.

“Ha!” Ser Davos almost chuckles.

“And how do you think my sister will react to this new development?” asks Tyrion venting his frustration. “Your Grace we are in a very precarious situation and I think we should proceed with caution.”

Another bout of silence rather annoys Daenerys. “I’d like to be alone now,” she says but looks intently at Jon, then she turns her back on everyone and gazes through the window.

 

**_Jon_ **

He is sitting with Davos and they are finishing their breakfast. Suddenly Tyrion walks into the room and quickly scans the faces of all those present. Finally noticing Jon and Davos he walks swiftly to them. “We need to talk,” Tyrion says in a conspiratorial voice. Jon and Davos exchange a quick look. “Please follow me.”

Jon and Davos slowly get up trying to ignore all the curious glances from others. Tyrion leads them deeper into the ship. Jon starts to feel nervous as they come closer to Daenerys’s door. Well, he was right to be nervous. Tyrion stops in front of her door and knocks quickly.

Has there been some news? If so why is there such a conspiracy? As far as he knows everyone aboard is on the same side, are they not?

When they enter the cabin, that he knows so well and where he spent each night since they sailed from Dragonstone, his eyes immediately go to her. She does not seem to be pleased about this visit. And it is clear that she did not arranged it.

“I’m pretty sure everyone here knows to what I’m referring.” Tyrion begins. “A few unchecked gestures, noises at night, glances and awkward pauses made it quite clear to everyone on this ship this past fortnight. I hope I don’t have to explain to anyone here how dangerous affairs of this sort for people in your positions are. I can…”

“It’s not an affair,” Jon blurts out angrily. Listening to Tyrion he felt his anger rising and for a short moment he wanted to supress it. But he sees no point. He is furious now.

He can hear that she is angry too when she interrupts Tyrion later. He looks stubbornly at the floor, his jaw is clenching.

The exchange between Daenerys and Tyrion is excruciating to listen to, so he is relieved that she finally shut Tyrion up. It is enough that he fought with these thoughts for so long, but to hear them said aloud by someone else is disconcerting.

“I think we all got carried away,” says Davos after the long silence that engulfed them became uncomfortable. “Is there any chance to end this conversation now as it is leading us nowhere?”

Jon was grateful for this comment and he sneaked a glance at Davos slightly nodding. And then Missandei speaks of marriage. He almost gasped at this. Has Daenerys talked to Missandei? He thought that they agreed to keep their plans secret. He tries to meet Daenerys gaze in search of an answer but he is unsuccessful.

Tyrion expresses his displeasure by worrying about Cersei.

Jon sighs with relief when Daenerys asks everyone to leave. Everyone except him that is. He knows her so well by now.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

“Are our days of being happy over?” she asks quietly when they are alone at last. She is standing by the window looking onto the sea.

He comes over to her. “No,” he replies in a deep voice. She turns to look into his eyes to find some comfort. She wants to believe him but his face is troubled, even if he looks at her tenderly.

She understands that for others it might have been seen as rushed and reckless but not for her. Jon is the person she had been waiting for all her life without even realising it, her dreams of a young man with a comely face came true.

They put their arms around each other. Both deep in thought.

Despite her anger at Tyrion and this bizarre intervention, she is thinking about his words. Has their love been a distraction? She thought before that it would be. She fought with herself. She told herself that love was the weakness. It distracts you from your goals. It distorts the reality. Maybe it makes one reckless.

Has she really been reckless? Tyrion did not want her to go beyond the Wall and she did not listen. Ser Jorah did not want her to sail and travel to Winterfell on a horse and she did not listen. She cannot lie to herself now. She knows that she did both of those things because of Jon. She had to try to save him and she had to be with him. Even if it cost her Viserion, she does not regret a thing. Only now she knows what it means to love someone more than her own life. He is her life. She tightens her embrace of Jon. Whatever the future, for now she can feel him, she can smell him and she listens to his heartbeat.

She looks into his eyes. She was once told that love comes in at the eyes. She never believed before how true it was. “I know it’s only morning, “ she whispers. “But stay with me, I don’t want to see anyone else today.” She knew she should not do it. Deep down she knew she was being weak. A true queen should not be weak. But it was beyond her control. She waited for the sentence from Jon’s lips. The kiss she receives is the best reply she could have expected.

 

**_Jon_ **

He did not know what to feel or to think. He looked at her standing by the window and he knows she is not happy now. Unhappy Daenerys breaks his heart. She asks if their days are over. He does not believe they are. Or rather he does not want to believe it. They embrace in search of comfort.

If he had not met Daenerys, he would have said the same as Tyrion did. It is easier to see clearly standing on the outside. Tyrion called them reckless. Was he reckless? He always wanted to do what is right. He did not always succeed. Whatever Theon may think of him, he made a lot of mistakes. Does love change things? He loved before, not like this, but he did, and he never forgot about his duty.

Duty. It brings to mind the words said to him by Maester Aemon that ‘love is the death of duty’.  He did not believe it then. He later sacrificed love to duty to the Night’s Watch. Does he believe it now? Aemon was one of the wisest men he ever met. He can almost hear him now. ‘What is honour compared to the woman’s love? What is duty against the feel of a new-born son in your arms?’  Only now he understands the veracity of these words. Well, he and Daenerys do not have children but what if they had. She is his entire world, her love is the most precious thing he possesses; and if she bore him a child, would not they be the only important people worth living for? How would he choose then? If he had not met Daenerys his life would be empty. Duty and honour cannot replace her. Nothing can replace her.

He is woken from the reverie by her sweet voice. She asks if they can stay together today despite the unpleasantness of this morning. This is the easiest answer he could give.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

“Welcome to Winterfell,” says Jon smiling at her. She smiles back but she is nervous. Their journey from White Harbour was relatively uneventful, although conscious of potential threats and eager to end any further mentions of her recklessness, she had a hood of her new coat on all throughout the journey. It actually was useful as the air was bitterly cold, almost the same as it was beyond the Wall and dark clouds hung over their heads. It is dreary in the North, she had to agree with Tyrion’s assessment.

The outline of the castle on the horizon is impressive. Is that the place they will be fighting for their lives against the Night King? A sense of dread sends a shiver down her spine. She looks up, her two beautiful children appeared out of nowhere and they are making circles over their heads. She wonders what spot they will choose to spend the night. She wants them to be safe. They are not safe here, Dragonstone was the safest place for them but they flew over here anyway.

The Dothraki and the Unsullied under the command of Ser Jorah and Grey Worm are starting to split in order to build camps around Winterfell. The main party goes straight to Winterfell. She takes a deep breath and assumes her regal stance, they are expecting the Queen, they have to see the Queen. She takes her hood off.

When they enter the main courtyard, it is full of people of all stations in life, they all stare at her, mostly with curiosity in their eyes but some with unconcealed distaste. Jon warned her about the Northern lords. He was right.

They stop in the middle of the courtyard. Jon quickly dismounts his horse and walks towards her. He took her by surprise. He grabbed her waist and lifted her out of her saddle, prolonging the moment when he was putting her on the ground. “You didn’t have to do it,” she says under her breath. “No. But I wanted to,” he replies quietly, smiling and winking at her. As everyone’s eyes are on her she cannot smile back but she only opens her eyes wider with the smallest happy reprimand in her look.

When Jon turns back to the welcoming party, a smallish young girl, dressed as a man with a sword and a dagger in her belt runs towards Jon and jumps into his arms. He lifts her up and they stay in an embrace for quite a while. Both their faces are deliriously happy. She knows that it must be Arya. Jon has been talking about her more than about any other sibling. Daenerys cannot but smile, she is moved by this display of true sibling love. She had never had that. She is so happy for Jon that she fights the tears that stubbornly try to gather in her eyes.

She turns her gaze to the rest of the welcoming party. A tall, beautiful girl with auburn hair whose face is impassive, stares at her coldly. Ah, yes, this must be Sansa. And the young boy in the chair must be Bran. His face is devoid of all emotions. He does not look at her but at Jon and Arya, then he looks up at the dragons flying above Winterfell.

When Jon finally puts Arya on the ground, he is all smiles and walks towards Bran and embraces him fondly. Bran put his hand on Jon’s back but his face remains unchanged. Then some man of Jon’s age comes closer and they embrace smiling. She thinks from the description that it must be Sam, Jon’s friend from the Night’s Watch. Jon then quickly embraces Sansa and her face finally breaks into the quick smile.

He then turns to her, gets closer and introduces formally his siblings. Bran just looks at her as if she were a specimen of a rare animal, Sansa nods slightly and Arya does the sweetest curtsey with a big smile on her face. Daenerys could not help herself and smiled at Arya with the most sincere smile.

‘Right, this is going to be interesting,’ she tells herself.

“Welcome to Winterfell, Your Grace,” says Sansa.

 

**_Jon_ **

The closer they were getting to Winterfell, the more impatient he was. He came to love being at Dragonstone but this is his home. Even if it did not hold many pleasant memories for him, this was the place the closest to his heart. Home. He never felt anywhere really home. Everywhere felt temporary, even Castle Black.

He looked at Daenerys, lost in thought. He was a little nervous. He did not expect the warmest reception, he wondered if Sansa told everyone about him bending the knee to Daenerys. They will not be happy and he suspected that some of their frustration may result in venting it on her. He wants to protect her from any harm and he will do his best to do so but he knows that his queen is equally equipped with protecting herself, she is strong, brave and wise. If they will not see it for themselves, they do not deserve her, or him for that matter. Her cheeks are rosy from the biting cold and he wonders how they would taste now if he were able to kiss them.

They hardly had time to themselves since they left their ship in White Harbour. He missed her. Looking at her was the greatest privilege he earned but he knew that he could get easily distracted now, so he forced himself to turn his gaze away from her. Then he saw Winterfell in the distance, he smiled. He wondered if the preparations for the winter went smoothly, he got messages from Sansa from time to time but the events of these past months somehow focused him on other matters than Winterfell. He felt guilty but at the same time happy as he achieved more than he hoped for. In many respects.

When they finally crossed the gates, he started to breathe more easily. He saw them in the distance, Arya, Sansa and Bran. And his heart skipped a beat. Finally, they are all home. Well, at least all of them who are alive. Daenerys looked as if she were nervous, so as soon as they reached the main courtyard, he went to her quickly. She was about to dismount but he reached for her and took her in his arms. Well, not exactly, even if it was what he would have wanted. She did not have time to react and he enjoyed her surprise, she clearly wanted to admonish him for his gesture but he knew she was not really angry; it just did not fit with her studied pose. He was happy, all the people he loved most were within his reach.

When he turned around, he only had time to catch Arya running at him with outstretched arms. He lifted her and embraced her tightly. Gods, he really missed her. For a long time he thought he would never see her again, and there she was safe and sound in his arms. It reminded him of the last time they saw each other. And she still had the Needle. “I thought I would never see you again,” he says gently. She only embraces him tighter in response.

“You’re going to strangle me,” he says laughingly. “Oh, sorry” says Arya loosening her grip on him. He slowly puts her down and just looks at her, her eyes are glistening but she smiles. This a great reward to see Arya smiling at him.

After a while he walks over to Bran and puts his arms around him. At least one of his brothers is alive. “I’m sorry we didn’t have the opportunity to see the Wall together as we planned once,” he says smilingly.

“The Wall has fallen down,” says Bran in a monotone voice.

“What?” says Jon alarmed. Then he hears the voice of his friend, “Bran is the Three-Eyed Raven now and has visions. But I think we will have time to talk about it later,” says Sam gingerly.

“Sam!” cries Jon happily and they embrace quickly. “I thought you’d be still at the Citadel.”

“Yes, well… it’s a long story… for later,” replies Sam, in a slightly embarrassed voice.

Jon turns to Sansa now and embraces her tightly. “It’s good to have you back,” says Sansa.

“It’s good to be back,” says Jon smiling gently.

He then turns around and walks towards Daenerys. He is a happy man now. “Your Grace,” he says formally. “Let me introduce to you my sister Sansa, my sister Arya, my brother Bran and my friend Sam.”

 

**_Daenerys_ **

She looks around the room, it is quite big with the enormous bed and a big fireplace. She walks towards the fireplace and stretches her hands to the fire. “I wonder if I ever be warm again,” she says.

“Indeed, Your Grace” says Missandei. “Those fireplaces and fur rugs are the only nice things about this place.”

Daenerys smiles. “You don’t like it here?”

“I miss the sun,” replies Missandei simply.

“Promise me,” says Daenerys. “If you ever want to go back to Essos, to Naath maybe, you will tell me straight away.” She wants her friend here with her, but she wants her to be happy too.

“My place is with you, Your Grace, to the end,” Missandei is very serious now. Daenerys turns her head towards Missandei and smiles warmly, “Thank you, my friend.”

There is a knock on the door and Missandei goes to open it.  One of the Unsullied guarding her door talks to Missandei, then she quickly turns to Daenerys, “Your Grace, Lord Snow is here to see you.”

Daenerys nods quickly. She was worried that she would not see him tonight and then worried that she would. This is not Dragonstone or her ship, she is not sure how she is supposed to behave here.

When Jon enters the room, Missandei bows her head and leaves closing the door behind her.

“You have four guards at your door?” he asks.

“They couldn’t decide which of them will be guarding me better, so both the Dothraki and the Unsullied stayed.” She goes to him, takes his face into her hands and places the chaste kiss on his lips, then steps back before his arms can reach her.  “You can’t allow just anybody to enter the queens’ chambers,” she says smilingly.

“And yet here I am,” he says and takes a step towards her. She takes a step back. “You’re not anybody. You’re the King in the North,” she says.

“Not anymore,” says Jon and again steps towards her. “Always for me,” she replies and she takes a step further towards the fireplace.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. She knows he deserves an honest answer. “I don’t know what to do,” she finally replies. He looks at her intently, not comprehending her meaning apparently. “This is a strange place, full of people who don’t even hide their hate for me,” she continues. She is afraid that she may sound self-pitying even if her voice is steady. “I stole their king.”

“’Their king’ loves you,” he says warmly. A warm wave goes through her body. “And I love ‘their king’ but it’s not enough it seems,” she murmurs. She always knew that looking into his eyes is dangerous. She steps closer to him. His puts his hand on her waist and pulls her firmly into his body. She sighs. It is unfair. How is she to have a proper conversation with him when he looks at her like that? He kisses her hard and long. A moan escapes her. She promised herself that she will not be distracted but there she is, melting into oblivion. When he releases her lips, he kisses her neck, his hands go to her bodice and begin to take it off, he is doing it very expertly now. When his lips reach first the one than the other of her nipples, she arches her back in pleasure, she would fall if his strong hands would not support her.

Slowly he manages to get her out of her clothes completely. She cannot imagine that she thought it was cold in this place, she is burning now. He kneels and his hungry lips are getting closer and closer to her core. She steadies herself by burying her fingers in his hair. She should stop this, this is that reckless behaviour Tyrion was talking about. With the rest of her conscious queenly mind she needs to stop it before it is too late. All their energy should be focused on the war. “No! No, we can’t!” she finally manages. “We shouldn’t.”

The withdrawal of his hips is an actual pain

“Should I go then?” he pulls away slightly and asks looking at her intently, panting from desire.  Once again she drowns in his eyes.

“Yes,” she replies, breathing heavily.

“Do you want me to go?” he whispers.

“No,” she whispers back.

 

**_Jon_ **

He does not understand how she does it. She takes his breath away each time he sees her. When she entered the hall, escorted by Missandei and Grey Worm, he stood up immediately, and so did Ser Jorah, Sam, Brienne, Podrick, Davos, Tyrion, Varys, even the Hound surprisingly and to his delight Arya. Sansa followed reluctantly. But none of the Northern lords and ladies. As soon as he was able to take his eyes off her and noticed that disrespectful behaviour, he looked hard across the hall. It worked, they all finally stood up as well.

She sat to the left of him and only then he sat down, followed by the rest of them all. Soon the silence was broken and the hall returned to their regular noise.

The rest of the evening was uneventful, although Jon’s eyes darted quickly to any louder voices in conversations throughout the hall. He hardly exchanged few words with her. She spent nearly all evening talking to Arya who wanted to know all about dragons, the Unsullied, the Dothraki. He looked at her as often as he could. Ostentatiously because he wanted to be sure she is all right but truthfully because he wanted to see her.

As the evening was nearing the end, she turned to Sansa, “Lady Sansa, you must forgive me, I am tired after the long journey, I shall retire with your and Your Grace’s kind permission.” She looked at him only fleetingly.

He looked at Sansa. She was clearly taken aback but recovered quickly. “Of course, Your Grace,” she replied graciously. He is very proud of his queen now.

Daenerys gets up and this time he is relieved that he did not have to prompt anyone. The entire hall stood up and waited to sit down again until she left the hall.

He wanted to leave as well but he knew it would not be appropriate. He only hoped he would not have to wake her up. As the quests were more and more relaxed and started to move about the hall, he thought that it would be a good moment to leave as probably not many would notice. He was about to get up when Arya leaned towards him. She was not the smiling girl he saw earlier when they arrived at Winterfell, her face and her tone were serious. “I like her,” she said and sat back. He smiled but did not comment. He was wrong however about no one noticing him getting up. As soon as he did the entire hall stood up too and waited patiently for him to leave. Right, at least no one asked him why he was leaving so early. The privileges of a king, supposedly.

There are two Dothraki and two Unsullied at her door. As soon as he is near the door they bar his entry. Well, this is awkward. “I need to see the Queen,” he says. They just stare back at him. After quite a while, one of the Unsullied knocks on the door. He talks to Missandei, who opened the door, in the language Jon does not know. Missandei announces him and only then the door is opened wider and the guards stand aside to let him through. Is she so afraid that someone may try to attack her here? The thought worries him, his arrival at Dragonstone was not met with such hostility. His displeasure at the fact stirs the quiet anger in him. It all goes away though because he can see his beautiful queen again. He can breathe again, that is after his breath comes back after being taken away by her ethereal beauty again.

He asks about the guards and she explains; he is relieved to see that she smiles and then quickly kisses him on the lips. She surprised him and he had no time to react. His arms started to go to her but suddenly she was out of reach again. It is unusual so he feels uneasy. He misses touching her. He tries to close the gap between them but she maintains it. Something is wrong. What happened?

She tries to explain but it does not make sense to him. She looks unhappy now and as always her unhappiness causes him pain. She noticed the hostile reception; he was trying to prepare her for it earlier but her pain is palpable. There may be some people at Winterfell that hate her but if they were to speak about the numbers, the Dothraki and the Unsullied gathered around the Winterfell constitute a far superior number of those who love her. He tries to reassure her that he loves her. It is a strange thing, they have not used the word since the first time they spoke it. It is not necessary. They know. Their eyes and their bodies speak for themselves.

She finally relents and comes closer to him. The faint smell of her perfume hits his nostrils; all he wants to do now is to rip that dress of hers in pieces and cover her with his hungry lips. He pulls her closer to him and plunges into the deep, hungry kiss. At this moment he does not care what the world thinks or that their world is standing at the brink of extinction. There is only her and him.

He tries to open her dress as fast as possible. He needs to taste her skin. She allows him to undress her and he hopes that his kisses will make her worries go away. She moans in pleasure and he knows it is working. He explores her body and he gets closer to where her sweetness is, but then she stops him. He is confused and frustrated. His entire body aches for her. He asks her if she is sure she does not want him to continue, hoping against the hope she will change her mind.

He looks into her eyes, almost pleadingly. After a moment, that was excruciating, she concedes. He is grateful to all the old gods and the new.

He wakes up early. Or so he thinks. The shutters are closed and the daylight is seeping through them lazily. He cannot remember when it was the last time he saw a clear blue sky. He turns his gaze to the face of a woman sleeping sweetly in his arms. Just the privilege of being able to look at her is the greatest gift of all. If he could he would stay forever here in this moment. But he knows that today it will be a difficult day. All the Northern lords and lords of the Vale did not come here just to feast with them. They need to plan their battles against the Night King. Deep down there is this prevailing foreboding of doom. Are they really ready to fight the White Walkers? Every person in their camp that dies is a potential new soldier of the Night King. Can they even win this fight?

He needs to get up, but his body aches at the thought of leaving her. He leans in to plant the tender kiss on those exquisite lips. The love for her fills his heart to the brim. She slowly wakes and eagerly returns his kiss, even if her eyes are still closed. He finally breaks the kiss, “I have to go now,” he says quietly. “There’s work to do.”

She stretches herself lazily, “Already?” she asks in her sleepy voice. They did not have much sleep last night. They were hungry for each other as on their first night together.

“Mhmm,” he offers as a reply. She opens her eyes, looking at him with such tenderness that he knows he will stay awhile. “Just a bit longer,” she whispers. He obeys his queen and their slow lovemaking eases them gently into the new day.

When he opened the door to leave the room, the four guards were still there. He feels uncomfortable thinking they were there all night, no doubt listening. The two Unsullied look straight ahead, their faces are impassive. But the two Dothraki unashamedly stare at him with half mocking smiles on their faces. He looks away and thinks he must suggest to Daenerys that from now on it would be better if only the Unsullied guarded her door.

He walks quickly to his chambers. The corridors are fortunately empty, the castle is slowly waking up to meet the new day.

In the distance he sees Sam at the door to his chamber. “Sam!” he cries across the corridor.

Sam nearly jumps.  “Oh, I thought…” says Sam hesitatingly. “Someone told me it was your room…”

“It is,” he smiles at Sam.

“Oh…” Sam does not seem to understand at first. Jon stares at Sam knowingly, with a slight smile on his lips. “Aaah, right, yes, well…” Sam stammers. “Yes, I understand. I…”

“What is it, Sam?” Jon asks a bit alarmed now.

“Jon,” says Sam after a pause. “We need to talk.”.

 

 

 


	7. Truth in Your Heart

Truth in Your Heart

 

 

 

**_Daenerys_ **

She was lost in thought all through the ritual of braiding her hair, performed by Missandei. She did not even hear the knock on the door and only realised when Missandei told her that everyone is summoned to the Great Hall.

She thought that she knew what it meant. Yesterday’s feast was not the place for serious talks, today is the day.

When she entered the hall everyone stood up immediately, quite a contrast from yesterday. She looked at Jon but he was not looking at her. It never happened before, she felt a dull thud in her chest. Something happened. Something is wrong. He left her smiling this morning, now his face looked like thunder.

When she sat down, together with the all gathered there, only Jon was left standing. He is the king. She can feel and understand easily why they chose him. He inspires, he commands respect. She is so proud when she looks at him, her heart is filled with love and admiration. If she could, she would kiss him hard now.

“We have received grave news, the worst news possible. The Wall, where Eastwatch once was, has fallen. The Army of the Dead is marching on the North,” says Jon in a deep, sombre voice.

Her own gasp was drowned by the uproar that rose in the hall. Some of the men stood up. She looks at Jon but his gaze is focused on the hall. It has started. Even sooner than they expected. She shivers with the anticipation of impending doom.

He raises his hand to silence the room. He tells them they need to prepare and proposes plans. He tells them about the dragonglass they brought from Dragonstone.

A baldish man stands up and quite rudely questions her presence here. “Then are we still under the orders of the King in the North or a foreign invader?” he asks, looking at her with unconcealed hatred in his eyes. She gives him a cold stare but her face remains impassive.

“I will not stand for any disrespect to Queen Daenerys, Lord Glover,” says Jon firmly. “There is neither need nor time for that. I suggest you should get your priorities right.”

She is grateful for Jon’s intervention but she will not stay silent.

“I imagine, Lord…”

“Glover,” barks the bald man.

“I must try harder to remember the name,” she says steely, looking hard at him. “It’ll come useful later.”

“I imagine, Lord Glover,” she continues after a pause, “that you allude to the pledge given to me by the King in the North. Rest assured, my Lord, that the issue will be resolved after the war against the Night King is won. Meanwhile, let me remind you that I have brought my armies and my dragons to save the North. Surely the question of North’s safety should be close to your heart. Or are you planning to abandon it? No? Unlike you, Lord… Glover, I have seen the Army of the Dead beyond the Wall and I realise what is the actual threat to the North. Therefore I would advise you to focus on the matters at hand.”

“We chose Jon Snow, the King in the North, to rule over us…” Lord Glover tries again.

“And you’ve chosen wisely,” she interrupts. “He did it to protect you, because he cares deeply for his people. Now, are you going to listen to my advice, Lord… Glover or…?”

Glover positively glowers at her but after sneaking a glance at Jon, his face changes. “Yes… Your Grace,” he says in the end and sits down.

There is not much said after that. As people in the hall begin to disperse she sees that Jon is about to leave too. “Your Grace,” she says in her normal voice but she knows she has to control herself as she feels that her voice may break any moment now. He stops and slowly turns towards her. Others are leaving, but Lady Sansa, Ser Davos, Tyrion and Ser Jorah linger. She is silent, she hopes they will understand that she wants to be alone with him. They finally do, only Tyrion gives them a last, anxious look, hesitates for a moment but eventually joins the others.

He still does not look at her. His eyes are looking anywhere else but at her. She takes a deep breath. “Is something wrong?” she asks gently when they are alone. He remains silent for a long time. She waits anxiously.  “Aye, there’s plenty wrong,” he blurts out suddenly. Then he checks himself. “Your Grace,” he continues a bit calmer, even if still avoiding her gaze. “Unless there is something of importance to tell me, I’d rather go to make preparations. We have no time to lose,” he pauses. “I have no time to waste.” She feels a thud in her chest again. His voice is so cold. Even colder than on the day they met. She tries to regain her composure.

“Jon…” she tries.

“It’s not even my name,” he interrupts her harshly and finally looks into her eyes. His eyes are devoid of emotions and there is no trace of tenderness in them. He nods and walks out of the hall briskly.

She looks after him shocked and broken inside, not understanding what has just happened.

 

**_Jon_ **

His mind was swirling. He was not sure if he heard right, if he understood Sam’s story correctly. He feels like he is drowning in the cold lake again, only now he does not see the way out. He knows both Sam and Bran are looking at him.

His entire life was based on a lie. People he trusted the most lied to him. Father…

“Jon?” says Sam gently, interrupting Jon’s train of thought.

Jon looks at him but he does not really see him, there is so much anger within him, that he does not trust himself to speak. He turns quickly and is nearly by the door when Bran voice stops him in the spot. “The Wall has fallen down. The dead are marching,” says Bran in his toneless voice.

Jon swiftly turns to face Bran. “What?” he asks angrily.

“The Night King destroyed the Wall. Eastwatch is gone. The dead are coming,” continues Bran.

“How do you know tha…” Jon does not finish, he assumes that Bran saw it while he was warging. “Is it true?” he asks despite himself. He wants to disbelieve it, but deep down he knows this is a vain hope.

“Yes,” replies Bran calmly.

“How far they’ve got?” asks Jon in a sullen voice.

“They’re on the Gift.”

Jon closes his eyes in desperation. This is where he allowed the rescued Freefolk to settle. Mostly women, children and old people. They have no chance. They will become soldiers of the Night King.

There is no time to be lost, plans need to be made. His personal problems must wait. “Sam, find Ser Davos and tell him to gather everyone in the Great Hall. Now. No excuses from anyone.”

Sam nods quickly and leaves the room. Jon looks at Bran who just stares at the fire in the fireplace. “How long did you know about me?” he asks Bran.

Bran turns his head towards him, “Some of it I saw beyond the Wall,” replies Bran. Jon nods, his jaw is clenching. “I thought you needed to know,” continues Bran. “It doesn’t change a thing.”

“How…” Jon does not even know how to finish the sentence.

“You’re still our brother,” finishes Bran.

He should have reacted to that, but his head is buzzing and he stares stubbornly at the floor. And there are so many emotions going through his body that he does not know what he would say if he decided to speak now.

“There’s one more thing,” Bran breaks the silence. Jon closes his eyes, he is not sure if he can take any more of it. “The Night King is riding a dragon,” says Bran. Only then Jon looks at Bran. The realisation of what happened to Viserion takes his breath away and almost makes him nauseous. It is his own fault. He should not go beyond the Wall. He should not ask Daenerys to come. This is a disaster. How are they going to defend themselves against the undead dragon?

Once again he turns towards the door and finally leaves the room.

When he waits patiently for everyone to take their places, he thinks that he should consult with his advisors first but that would mean to talk directly to Daenerys too. He is not ready for that. There are so many conflicting thoughts in his head. He needs more time. And there is no time. He needs to avoid her until he is ready. He does not know what ‘being ready’ would actually involve but he needs some more time to gather his thoughts. She enters the hall but he is determined to avoid looking at her. Not now.

As he begins to share the news, he wonders if he should part with the other information he got this morning. He clearly remembers how they emphasised him being a Stark. Well, he is but he is half Targaryen and he doubts they would take it well. He struggles. He needs them to focus on the war. Would it not be an unnecessary distraction to tell them about his Targaryen heritage? He finally decides against it. At least for now. He wants their attention focused on the most important matter: the survival.

“Lord Umber,” he says loudly. A frightened boy stands up. Jon’s heart goes to him but there is so little he can do. “Last Hearth is in an immediate danger. As the Army of the Dead is on the Gift already. You, as other lords, should decide if you want your people come to Winterfell where we will face the enemy together. Or you try to defend your castle and hope they will pass you by. In any case, everyone must arm themselves with dragonglass weapons. We have brought plenty of dragonglass from Dragonstone. It should be enough for everybody. There is also dragonglass that should be forged into weapons. We did not have time to use it all.”

The murmur goes through the hall as the houses confer as to what actions should be taken. Then lord Glover stands up and in a convoluted and impolite way asks about his pledge to Daenerys. Well, he knew that was coming. Sooner or later. He wanted to handle it in his own time, he wanted them to know her better, to see that she deserved devotion, respect and trust. She… ‘No, I can’t think about her now’ he tells himself. The pent anger, boiling down inside him since his conversation with Sam and Bran, is slowly coming to the surface, even if he promised himself to try to suppress it. This is madness. What does it matter who rules where if they all can die any moment? He tries to put lord Glover in his place, he does not want the discussion about kingship now. There are more important things to worry about. Despite his intervention, she speaks to Glover. He tries very hard not to look at her now. But he can hear that she is the queen he knows, strong, resilient and not afraid. She still calls him a king. His heart almost breaks at this. She is loyal to him and even boosts his position in the eyes of the Northerners. In any other circumstances he would be so proud of her. He is angry though. Her being so perfect in his eyes does not help him now. Instead he focused his anger at Glover. He looks at him with a murderous intent. Glover finally meets his eye and finally shuts up.

Decision time. Some lords prefer to go home, Jon thinks it is a mistake. He needs numbers to fight the White Walkers here but he knows that they want to protect their families in their own homes. Fortunately most of the houses decide to stay and get their people to Winterfell. Sansa reminds them to take the provisions from their castles as Winterfell cannot possibly feed them all indefinitely.

Umbers decide to go home. Jon sighs but does not try to convince them. Instead he asks Lord Umber to send the raven home and order to let the Freefolk from the Gift into the castle if they manage to run away from the Army of the Dead.

“That is all for now, my lords and ladies,” he says loudly and people start to leave the hall. He knows he needs to organise defence in detail but he needs a moment alone. His head is buzzing.

She stops him. He dreaded it. She calls him ‘Your Grace’ when the others are present but drops it when they are alone. Her voice is gentle and tender, she is worried.

He tries to avoid her eyes at all costs. He is full of anger and frustration, he is afraid to let her see it. This is torture. He needs to end it quickly. He simply cannot talk to her now. Or even be close to her.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

She is sitting with Tyrion, Varys, Jorah, Missandei and Grey Worm. She should be focused. They discuss the recent events, preparations and all the important issues. She listens but hardly takes part in the conversation. She should be worried about the Dothraki and the Unsullied freezing to death. She should be worried about the provisions for her armies and the horses. She should be worried that there is no word from the Lannister army. She should be worried about a lot of things. But she is numb inside.

She knows that something else happened, apart from the Wall falling. A wall has risen between her and Jon. Her heart aches. She thinks that she knows him well. But does she? The man she knows would act differently. The man she loves would not be cold towards her. The man that is her life would not run away from her.

It appears Tyrion was right. Love distracts, makes you forget your priorities, makes you act irrationally. She tries to be the queen she is. She tries to revert to her former self. So far unsuccessfully. She notices that every one of them looks at her from time to time quizzically.

She really tries to join the conversation but her mind is blank. She just agrees or disagrees when anyone asks her opinion on a given subject.

The conversation is slowly dying out. “Well,” she ventures, “it appears that everyone knows what to do.” It is met with some consternation from her companions. Hmm, it seems she did not listen to the conversation as closely as she should. Fortunately, using the queen’s prerogative no one points out to her that she made a blunder. They all rise and slowly begin to leave the room.

“Are you feeling unwell, Your Grace?” says Jorah with a genuine care in his voice.

“I’m perfectly fine,” she smiles reassuringly. “Thank you for your concern, Ser Jorah. I think I need some fresh air.”

Again Tyrion lingers at the door, looking at her intently. When there is only Tyrion, Missandei and her, he asks her in a quiet voice. “Is there something we should discuss, Your Grace?”

Once more she tries to reassure with a smile. “Nothing comes to mind at the moment.”

He still looks at her as if he was trying to read her face. But finally he nods and leaves.

“Can I be of any assistance, Your Grace?” asks Missandei.

“No,” she smiles at Missandei. “Thank you, my friend.”

She is finally alone. She feels that there must be a logical explanation to all this. Maybe she just have to wait patiently. Patiently! She was patient for so long during her time in Essos that she hardly has any reserves of patience left.

She puts her fur coat on. It is the one she had when she travelled beyond the Wall. It brings all sorts of memories, mostly painful. It fits her mood at the moment.  She leaves the room and all her four guards follow her. She goes out into one of the covered bridges overlooking one of the courtyards. Down there, there is a multitude of people busy with all sorts of activities. She looks at them deep in thought. How many of them will be able to survive the winter? Or the Night King?

She turns her head and sees Ser Jorah with Jon’s friend. Sam, was it? “Your Grace, allow me to introduce Sam Tarly. This is the young man I was talking to you about who saved my life at the Citadel,” says Ser Jorah.

‘Tarly?’ she thinks. That name rings a bell. As the recollection dawns on her, she smiles but deep down, under her regal poise, she feels uneasy.  “I must thank you, Lord Tarly for saving my friend. I truly owe you for this service,” she says in her composed voice.

“Oh, I’m not a lord, Your Grace,” Tarly replies, smiling shyly. “I’m just Sam.”

She smiles genuinely now. She should have known. He is Jon’s friend after all.  She braces herself. It will not be a pleasant conversation.

“Ser Jorah, I’d like to have a few private moments with Sam,” she says. Ser Jorah and Sam both look surprised, but Jorah nods and walks away.

“Sam, about your family…” she starts but does not know where to go with it. “Ah, that,” says Sam and looks relieved. She is confused. “Do you know what happened to them?” she asks.

“Happened?” asks Sam, clearly anxious. “Has anything happened to mother or Talla?”

“No, I didn’t mean them. They’re fine, I should think.” She pauses. “Why? What did you think I was going to say?”

Sam looks embarrassed now. “Oh, erm… nothing. I just…” He blushes deeply. “I wasn’t thinking of anything, Your Grace.”

She watches him closely. There was something else, she is sure of it but she does not press him. “It’s about your father and your brother,” she says quietly.

“Oh?”

“Yes. There is no easy way to say it…they died in battle,” she says finally, looking straight into Sam’s eyes.

“Oh!” Sam looks surprised. As the news sink in, his face loses its happy countenance and he looks very serious. “Both of them?” he asks. She nods, she feels that she needs to say more.

“They died for their honour,” she says gently. He nods eagerly. “That was to be expected,” he says. “Our words are ‘First in Battle’, so I can only imagine…”

She takes a deep breath. “They were fighting for the Lannisters.”

“The Lannisters?” asks Sam incredulously. “But we are pledged to… I don’t understand.”

“They chose to side with Cersei. They refused to join me. I decided to execute them,” she looks very intently at Sam. “I want you to know that they died bravely,” she finishes quietly.

He looks into her eyes for a long time. “Thank you for telling me, Your Grace…” he says in a serious voice. “War makes us do horrible things.”

She nods slowly and looks again at Sam. They stand in silence for some moments, just looking at each other.

“Have you seen Jon Snow, Your Grace?” asks Sam suddenly, his voice back to his normal cheerfulness. She is taken aback for a moment. “No,” she replies, trying to hide her confusion.

“Ah, well, I’ve been looking for him everywhere,” says Sam. “If you don’t mind, Your Grace, I will continue my search.”

She nods quickly.

 

**_Jon_ **

It is the only peaceful place he could find. The crypts were always a refuge when he wanted to be alone. He stared for a long time at the figure of Ned Stark. A man he thought of throughout all his life as his father. Someone who was his role model. Someone who meant everything to him. Someone whom he wanted to emulate. Someone who lied to him.

All he endured for being a bastard son of a mighty lord was undeserved, unnecessary, unfair. He knew exactly who he was as Jon Snow. And who is he now? Nothing makes sense anymore. All his actions revolved around the idea of proving his worth to the memory of Ned; showing he was just as much a son Ned would be proud of as Robb or Bran or Rickon. Now it has all been taken away from him. He looks towards Lyanna’s statue. He has been to the Crypts so many times and he hardly noticed her statue. He tries to imagine her features but the time seemed to be unrelenting and her face is a mystery to him as it is almost obliterated. There should be some consolation in the fact that she was happy, she was in love and she wanted this child. And it is. All those stories he heard time and time again about her and Rhaegar were not true. He knows next to nothing about Rhaegar. He knows all about Targaryens but he hardly paid any attention to him.

He knows that deep down he still considers Ned as his true father. A father who taught him everything, a father who showed him love, a father who protected him. He understands why Ned did what he did but nevertheless he feels cheated. He does not know if knowing of him being a Targaryen would change anything, any of his life choices, but he resents the fact that he was not even given an option. He recalls the advice he has given himself to Theon, that he did not have to choose, he could be both. By the cruel twist of fate, he is standing before the same decision. Who is he? Is he a Jon Snow or is he Aegon Targaryen? There is nothing Targaryen about him. Or is there? This is getting ridiculous.

And Daenerys… How can he even tell her that he is her brother’s son? That they are related. Well, it hardly matters to a true Targaryen, he supposes. And it should not matter to him. He is half Targaryen. And even in the Starks’ family first cousins and uncles and nieces married but… ‘Oh, I don’t know what to think about it all’ he shouts at himself in his thoughts.

And there is Daenerys herself. The thought of her, looking at him with plain hurt on her face when he basically told her that talking to her is a waste of his time, tortures him. He cannot believe he could be that cruel. And especially to her; she is his whole world, the undisputed love of his life and he hurt her. Why did he do that? He would gladly die for her and yet was ready to cause her pain. He closes his eyes, there is an actual ache in his chest when he recalls that scene. That was unforgivable. He hates himself for it. She must hate him now. No, she would not do that. She is better than that. He does not deserve her love. He behaved abominably.  And just after her show of loyalty to him in her exchange with Glover.

His thoughts are interrupted, he hears footsteps coming towards him. He prays to the gods it is not Daenerys. It is not, it is Sam.

“Jon?” cries Sam. “Are you here? It’s so dark and you know my eyes are not so good.”

Jon steps out of the shadows and it startles Sam. “Oh, I’m glad I found you. I’ve been looking for you all over the place…”

“What do you want, Sam?” interrupts Jon in a deep voice.

“I was wondering… how you are. Many people are looking for you. There are so many decisions to be taken…” Sam pauses looking at his friend with a worry on his face. “Are you all right?”

“No, Sam, I’m not.” He wanted to be alone but he is relieved to see Sam.

“He tried to protect you,” says Sam. As always Sam goes straight to the heart of the matter.

“I know,” he replies tiredly.

“I’m sure he would tell you eventually,” offers Sam.

“I know,” Jon tries to be patient.

“As I see it, you need to look for the good things in this situation,” Sam gets into his lecture mode. “You’re not a bastard. Your father and mother loved each other. You always wanted to be a Stark and you are, legitimately. You’re also a Targaryen, also a legitimate one. And you’re the heir to the Iron Throne. So, really, when you look at it, there’s more to be happy about.”

“Happy?” he asks incredulously. “Sam, I’ve been lied to all my life. I don’t know who I am!”

“What do you mean?” asks Sam. “You’re Jon. My friend, my chosen brother. You’re Jon who people love and respect. What more do you want?”

Jon is silent. Maybe Sam is right, he is the same as he always was. No, it cannot be and is not that simple. He almost wishes he had a disposition like Sam’s. Life might have been easier.

“Have you told the queen yet?” Sam asks quietly. ‘Sam doesn’t let me catch my breath,’ Jon tells himself. He shakes his head and looks gloomily at the floor.

“Do you…erm… do you love her?” asks Sam. ‘Gods,’ thinks Jon, ‘does everyone read him like a book?’ His heart aches. He cannot speak. He just looks into Sam’s eyes. “Yeah, well… and does she love you?” Sam continues in a slightly embarrassed tone. Jon slowly nods.

“Well… don’t you think she deserves to know?” Sam is persistent. “It would be better coming from you…”

“I know!” he interrupts brusquely but adds in a gentler voice, “I know, Sam.”

“When you love someone, you’re supposed to trust them. So maybe you should trust her judgment,” Sam continues unperturbed. “Just look at me and Gilly…” Sam notices the meaningful look from Jon. “Yes, well, anyway, you can’t really love a person if you don’t trust them. And this is not something I read in the books,” Sam finishes confidently.

Despite himself he smiles at the recollection of this constant tease directed at Sam at Castle Black. Before he could answer he saw and heard someone approaching. “Your Grace,” says Davos. “You’re not easy to find, but my smuggler’s past taught me a few tricks.” Davos’s smile dies down when he looks closely at the faces of Jon and Sam. “Is anything the matter?” he asks.

Jon looks at Sam and nods slightly. Sam understood and slowly repeats the story he told Jon himself only this morning. Jon breathes heavily throughout all this, his jaws are clenching again and he looks stubbornly at the floor.

“Ha!” Davos finally breaks the silence that had engulfed them when Sam finished the story. “That’s an interesting state of affairs.” They are silent for a long time again. Finally Davos speaks, “What does it matter?”

“What does it matter?” Jon raises his voice. Released anger and frustration sweep through his whole body. He is about to burst into rant but is stopped by the calm voice of Davos.

“What does it matter?” Davos repeats. “You still have to fight the White Walkers, you still have to protect your people. No matter what your name is, your people need you, they believe in you whatever fancy name you’re going to take. The Northerners are a stubborn lot and they may not love you for being a Targaryen but I presume no one but few people know, we don’t have to tell everybody. There will be plenty of time for that after the war. If there will be anyone able to speak left, that is.”

“It’s not right,” says Jon stubbornly.

“Your Grace,” says Davos in a calm but firm voice. “The dead are coming, that’s more important.” And after a pause, “But you have to tell her.”

“I know / He knows” say Jon and Sam at the same time.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

“Has anybody shown you around the castle yet, Your Grace?” Arya’s voice startles her, and apparently her guards. No one heard her coming towards them. The guards even reacted protectively but she calmed them with a hand gesture. Arya has not even flinched at the display of hostility from the guards, she just looks at Daenerys with a half-smile.

“Nnno,” she stammers as she tries to regain her composure. “Not yet” she adds with a slight smile.

They walk slowly and Arya is showing her all the many courtyards and other places in the castle, that bring some cherished memories. Daenerys watches her with interest. Her words recall to mind the images of simple and happy domesticity, yet her face betrays no emotions and her voice is steady.

“You must’ve had a happy childhood here,” says Daenerys gently. She knows that despite her cold demeanour, there is this wistfulness about Arya.

“Yes,” replies Arya simply. “For a while. We all did.”

“Even Jon?” asks Daenerys and she quickly regrets saying it. Arya looks at her intently. “No, maybe it wasn’t so nice for Jon.” Then she adds after a pause, “But we loved him. Well, some of us did and still do.”

She is nervous now, she needs to change the subject. Arya’s intense look disconcerts Daenerys, Arya’s eyes seem to bore right through her.

“And so do you,” says Arya.

That is what she was afraid of. Daenerys forces herself to turn her gaze from Arya. “It’s important to have such memories. You can always come back to them in the moment of despair. I don’t have too much of good memories.” She hopes to divert Arya’s mind to other subjects. She starts to tell her about her journeys through Essos. She talks quickly and a lot, hoping to prevent Arya from returning to the subject of Jon. Arya listens in silence. But as soon as Daenerys runs out of ideas about what she should talk about now, Arya speaks in this calm voice of hers.

“I haven’t travelled much in Essos. I’ve only been to Braavos.”

Daenerys is relieved that her ploy worked. “Why did you go there?” she asks.

“To learn,” replies Arya.

“Learn what?” she asks. Getting information from Arya is not an easy task. This is something she has in common with her brother.

“To learn how to be me,” Arya again looks very intently at Daenerys.

‘She is such a strange girl,’ she thinks. But deep down she likes her, Arya intrigues her. She is tiny but strong and self-assured, that reminds her so much of herself. Daenerys feels instinctively that there is a thread of understanding between them.

“And here are the crypts,” says Arya.

They are standing at the top of the stairs and Daenerys seems to hear raised voices. One of them sounds exactly like Jon’s. “Maybe some other time,” she says hesitatingly. Arya nods.

Of all the places Arya took her, she liked the best the Godswood and this glass garden where their tour has ended. She sits on a small bench surrounded by blue roses. Every other patch of the ground is full of all kinds of vegetables, but here in the corner by the hot springs, there is this oasis of sheer beauty. The roses are exquisite, deep blue in colour and smelling better and more intoxicating than any perfumes she has ever had. It is very warm here and she is relieved that she can take off her coat and gloves. Her guards seem happy too. They are sitting nearby on the ground but they are providing her with a bit of privacy.

After a while she has to open her bodice as well. She has not been that warm since Essos. No, actually since this morning when she was safely in Jon’s arms. She sighs deeply. She needs to get a grip on herself. Whatever is happening between her and Jon, she is the queen responsible for her armies and they all need to be ready to face the Army of the Dead. She gives herself some moments more here but soon she will have to go back to the grim reality where her duties await her.

She turns her head as her guards suddenly got up, she follows their gaze and she sees Jon coming towards her. She tries to read his face but she is unsuccessful. Instead she turns away her head and looks at the roses. She is trying to compose herself. Whatever happens, she has her regal mask on, under which all the emotions will be hidden. In the corner of her eye she notices her guards relaxing and taking their places on the ground again.

He stops at the short distance from her. She knows he is looking at her and it takes all her strength not to turn her head towards him. She expected a long silence, so the sound of his voice startled her.

“Daenerys,” says Jon softly. “I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.” The tone of his voice sends shivers through her body. She can only hope her voice will not tremble.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she replies and she is quite proud of herself. She managed to remain calm.

“No, there is,” he says earnestly and steps closer to her. Her heart is beating faster.

He explains that he was angry because he received the news that was hard to bear. “What was it?” she asks gently. He drops his gaze and is silent for a moment. He wants her forgiveness first.

“There’s nothing to forgive because I’ve forgiven you already,” she says and finally turns her head towards him. She slowly raises her eyes to his. He takes a step closer to her again. She is drowning in his eyes that once again are filled with love. She barely notices his hand grabbing her waist and pulling her closer to him. And then she is lost in a kiss, tender, deep and desperate.

When they sit together on the bench again, he does not look at her but she is observing him very closely. As his story progresses her eyes are getting wider and wider. There are million thoughts in her head. ‘I’m not the last Targaryen,’ is one of them and her heart skips a beat rejoicing. Then the slow realisation dawns on her. He is the son of her brother and furthermore, his claim to the Iron Throne may be stronger than hers. She does not care about the former, Targaryens’ history is full of similar cases or even worse. Jon may struggle with it though. But he just kissed her. Was it a farewell kiss? Her heart sinks. Does it mean…? What does it mean?

The latter issue of the claim to the throne is a bitter pill. Her whole life has been centred around the idea. All she has gone through was for this sole purpose ever since Viserys died. She searches her heart. Does it still matter so much? There might be no throne to claim either way if they do not destroy the Night King. And if they are together, would it really matter? If they are together… If.

He is silent; she knows that she should be the one to say something first. She looks at the face of a man she loves, looking for clues of what is going on in this head of his. Then it strikes her that she did not really think of him. He just found out that he had been lied to all his life. Her heart breaks at the thought how lost he may feel at the moment. His entire identity was based on a lie. But then, this lie probably saved his life so precious to her. If Robert knew, he would have killed him as he tried to kill her. The thought of not being alone in the world comes back. He is a Targaryen, she is not alone. Knowing him as much as she does now she is convinced that this may be the hardest part. He is proud of Starks’ legacy, he is a Stark whatever his real name may be. And then there is the North. Their disdain for Targaryens is almost palpable. Would they accept him? As half Stark, half Targaryen.

Her heart goes to him. Her own confusion at the news is nothing in comparison to his. She longs to touch him but she is not sure how he will react. She is suddenly afraid. What if he rejects her?

This silence between them is excruciating. She takes a deep breath. “I understand,” she whispers. He suddenly looks at her, his eyes are searching her face. No, it was the wrong thing to say. What should she say? What does she want to say?

“It doesn’t change a thing for me,” she says gently.

 

**_Jon_ **

He was ready to face the armies by himself, he was ready to fight the White Walkers, he was ready to confront danger in general. Yet he was afraid to face her now. But he has to do it. No, he wants to do it. He is steeling himself as if before the battle.

He goes to her chambers first but there are no guards in front of her door so he presumes she is not there. He tries to find someone who he could ask about her whereabouts without raising suspicions or questions. He suddenly sees Arya. He greets her with a smile. She nods but her face is frozen with half smile, it is inscrutable. He makes a mental note that he needs to spend some time alone with Arya, he needs to get to know her again; she is not a smiling, scatter-brained girl he remembered. But then they all changed so much. “Have you seen Queen Daenerys?” he asks.

Arya looks at him for an uncomfortably long moment. “She’s in a glass garden,” she finally replies.

He starts to thank her but she interrupts him. “I’m happy for you,” she says and walks away with her hands behind her back. He looks after her with his mouth open. Then he shakes his head and goes towards the glass garden.

He sees her from afar. She sits on the bench surrounded by the roses, but for him she is more beautiful than all the flowers in the world, the familiar loss of breath reminds him of a sheer miracle that she is. When he reaches her, she stands up but she does not look at him. He knows her too well by now. Despite her regal poise she is unhappy and as always it breaks his heart to see her unhappy.

He begs for her forgiveness. She is calm and distant. He knows he hurt her, he knows that she did not deserve it but he cannot turn back time.

Even if she says that there is nothing to forgive he knows it is not true. He tries to explain. “I’ve received some news that was and still is hard to get over,” he pauses and sighs deeply. “And I’m not even talking about the Night King.”

If he could, he would postpone the moment for ages. She is clearly concerned. “I will tell you all,” he says, sighing loudly. “But first I want you to forgive me for my behaviour earlier.”

Her response melts his heart and he is finally granted the possibility to look into her eyes. He is distracted though by a single drop of her sweat that starts its slow journey from her collarbone deeper down her half open bodice. He watches it in fascination. It takes his breath away and he comes closer to her, the urge to kiss her, despite it being a public place, is stronger than reason. He pulls her close and kisses her deeply.

When he finally and reluctantly breaks his kiss, he needs to take his fur cloak off and his gloves, not only because the glass garden is such a warm place.

He motions her back to the bench. Slowly, trying to find the right word or sometimes using the phrases Sam did in his story told twice already, Jon explains the nature of news he received. He avoids her gaze now. Even when he finishes his story.

There is a long silence. His own thoughts are just buzzing in his head. He does not know what she is thinking and he is afraid to look at her. He remembers what Sam and Davos said but it does not mean he feels that way. Not yet at least. And he is unsure what her reaction to his revelation might be. She always kept reminding him of her being the last Targaryen. Now she is not. It was important to her. Her claim to be the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was based on this very fact. She may resent him for somewhat taking it away from her. As if he ever wanted that. He does not care about the Iron Throne. He never cared for any of this. He was always driven by the sense of duty. But she may see it differently. She may withdraw her forces from the North now. No, he does her disservice. She is not that person. She risked everything to save them. Ah, this silence is unbearable.

As if hearing his thoughts he hears her saying quietly that she understands. He looks at her sharply. What does it mean? He tries to find the answer in her face but he is unable to read it. She sort of clarifies that it does not change a thing. Why does everyone keep saying those things? It does matter, it changes things.

“How?” he asks almost angrily, although he tries to check himself. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

She looks confused for a moment. “You are who you have always been,” she says after a pause, her voice is tender and gentle. “It should not matter what name the world gives you,” she continues. “What matters is the truth in your heart.” She places her hand hesitatingly in his hand. She trembles. He instinctively squeezes her hand. He looks deeply into her eyes. Then he lets go of her hand and puts his arms around her, pulling her firmly towards him, relieved to notice that she embraces him tightly. He kisses her forehead with all the tenderness that is swelling up inside him. Whatever future brings, he found her and that is his reward.

There was just one more thing to say. He slowly pulled away from her but did not release her from his arms. He looked into her eyes.

“I have to tell you something else though,” he begins slowly. He is dreading this moment more than telling her of his ancestry. She looks at him with such a love in her eyes that his heart breaks at the thought what he is about to say. And as if reading his thoughts, the gentle smile on her face slowly fades away.

“The Night King… has raised Viserion from the dead…and… he rides him now,” he finally finishes.

The absolute horror and hurt that he sees in her face causes him an actual pain in his chest. Her beautiful eyes well up and then the tears begin streaming down her face. She tries to say something but no words come. He starts to plant delicate kisses all over her face, whispering, “I know, love, I know.”

 

**_Daenerys_ **

They decided not to share this newly found knowledge with anyone until he talks with his family. They deserve to know and their decision is to be final. No matter how she tries to chase away the thoughts from her head they keep coming back stubbornly. Again and again. She is almost angry at herself but her whole life has changed in recent months so much and even more in recent hours that she allows herself to feel confused.

Instead she tries to occupy her mind with her queenly duties. Once again she gathered her advisors to discuss the important issues of preparation for the impending war. This time she not only listens carefully to what is being said but takes an active role in the conversation. She is almost amused at the palpable relief on the face of Tyrion. He looks like he got his queen back. And she is back. No matter what happens they are still facing the Army of the Dead, they still need to gather provisions for her armies and they need to plan.

The only time she faced the slight discontent on the face of Tyrion and Ser Jorah when she decidedly stated that any strategic military plans had to be agreed and consulted with Jon. And she hoped that they could easily read it from her face that this was not a negotiable point.

When they were asked to join Jon’s council she was more than aware of constant looks Tyrion kept giving her and Jon for that matter. She could not have been prouder of herself and Jon, she was almost maliciously satisfied that Tyrion underestimated the sense of duty ingrained in both her and Jon.

The supper is a gloomy affair. All of the gathered are unhappy with their respective thoughts and the conversations are conducted in subdued tones. She is tired, this day almost drained her emotionally. Thus once again she is the first to leave the hall.

However, typically even if she is tired, once in bed she cannot go to sleep. She thinks of the revelations of today, she worries about no word from the Lannister army and most of all her thoughts go to Viserion. She does not know how she will react if she sees him. It will break her heart.

She tries to chase the bad thoughts away but still she cannot sleep. It has not been long but Jon reawaken her natural urges with double force. She needs him like air. She thinks of his arms around her, his warm lips all over her body. Those thoughts relax her; with the one hand she reaches between her legs , while the other is circling her nipple. She expects he will not visit her tonight, so she tries to recompense for the loss of his touch.

The sudden knock on her door startles her and she tries to focus her eyes, the room is almost dark with just one candle lit.

The door opens and the unmistakable shape of her lover appears. He stops after closing the door. “You’ve started without me?” says Jon in a deep voice, coarse with desire.

 

**_Jon_ **

He was glad that he asked Bran to tell Sansa and Arya when he was not there. He wanted to avoid awkward staring and gasps of disbelief.

Well, he did not manage to avoid stares when he finally entered the room where the three of them were gathered around the fireplace. Sansa was sitting opposite Bran but Arya was standing as if ready to pounce.

There is no need to prolong this awkward moment. “I gather Bran told you everything?” he asks.

It is met with silence, he is nervous he does not what it means. He looks carefully at the faces of all of them but he can read nothing. He does not know what to say next. “And what do you think?” he asks. He knows that it is a lame question but that was the best he could come up with at the moment.

Again he is met with the wall of silence. Finally Bran speaks up, “I’ve told you already, I thought you needed to know. You’re still our brother.”

“Thank you, Bran,” he says gently.

“I agree,” says Arya quickly. “You’re still half Stark as you were before. Nothing is changed.”

Before he can answer, Sansa’s voice makes his head turn. “What do you mean nothing is changed?” she asks Arya accusingly. “He’s not our father’s son as everyone thinks. That was the reason he was chosen as the King in the North.”

“And you’re not happy about it,” says Arya.

“Don’t start again, Arya,” says Sansa angrily. “I think I’ve proven my loyalty to the family enough.”

Before Arya could answer, he thought he had to intervene. “There’s no need to fight amongst ourselves about it,” he tries to sound calm.

“Jon’s right,” says Arya. “There’s nothing to discuss.”

“I didn’t say that exactly,” he interposes but smiles gently at Arya. “What do you think, Sansa?”

“Yes, what does Lady of Winterfell have to say about it?” says Arya quickly. He meets Arya’s gaze  and she turns and walks towards the window. Sansa positively glares at her retreating figure.

Sansa does not respond immediately. “Does she know?” she asks with irritation. The question makes Arya turn again to face Sansa.

He presumes Sansa means Daenerys, it does not look like they took to liking each other. “Yes,” he replies quietly. And he adds quickly to prevent any further questioning, “She accepts it.”

Sansa snorts in reaction to his statement. ‘It really doesn’t go well,’ he tells himself. He takes a deep breath. “So do you think we should tell everyone?” he looks at them again.

Bran only shrugs. “Why should we care what everyone thinks?” blurts Arya again.

“We should,” says Sansa firmly. “The North needs to be united. And what the Northern lords think is important,” she pauses. “That is why I think we should not tell them anything now. It would be a distraction. We have more important things to worry about. We can tell them later, when the war is won.”

He smiles at Sansa but her face is impassive. “Thank you, Sansa, Arya, Bran,” he says quietly.

“So do we call you Aegon now?” asks Arya. “Arya!” cries Sansa reprovingly.

“No,” he says. “I’m still Jon. Jon Snow. And Ned Stark was my father, no matter what others may say. He was the only father I’ve known.” He smiles and finally gets the smiles from everyone in the room. Even Bran which takes him by surprise.

The rest of the day was extremely busy and full of exhausting conversations. He was glad that at supper he did not have to talk much. Daenerys left early like before and he was ready to follow her when he saw Tyrion and Varys coming in his direction. His heart sunk.

They kept him long, even after the hall emptied. The biggest worry was undead Viserion and lack of sighting of the Lannister army. He finally had enough. “My lords, we can finish the conversation tomorrow. We all need some sleep.”

He walked briskly along the corridors with just one thought in his mind: to find himself as soon as possible in the arms of the woman he loved.

 

 


	8. Godswood

**Godswood**

 

 

**_Daenerys_ **

For a change she woke up first. As they lie on their sides facing each other, she has a perfect opportunity to look at the face of the man she loves. Just looking at his calm, asleep face fills her with warmth.

She had that dream again about her and Jon riding dragons. She brought it up once before but he dismissed it. What about now? He is half Targaryen after all. Ah, but there is a real problem though, isn’t there? His Targaryen heritage. She knows that these past two days he was still struggling with it. She knows that he is surrounded by the people who truly love him and support him, that itself probably gives him strength but she just knows he is uneasy about those revelations. He almost said it to her once or twice; well, maybe not directly, it is not in his nature to wallow in self-pity but she understood and tried to ease his mind gently. He only looked at her tenderly and kissed her forehead in response.

Sometimes she thinks that he is too honest and too brave for his own good. Her eyes inadvertently go to the scars on his chest. She recalls the time when he finally told her what happened at Castle Black. Her eyes still well up at the memory. She does not know what gods she should be grateful for bringing him back but she knows she owes Ser Davos and the priestess Melisandre more than she could ever repay. She never realised how her life was empty without him in it.

As the wave of infinite love for him rushes through her body, she slips her arm under his, and pulls herself closely to him, burying her face in his chest. He stirs slightly at that and wraps his arm around her.

She did not want to wake him up so she lies very still. But after a moment, she feels him kissing her head gently. She slowly upturns her face to check if his eyes are open and as they are, her lips break into a smile that is almost instantly crushed by the eager kiss from Jon.

 

**_Jon_ **

As they lie panting from their exertions, he reaches for her hand and presses it to his lips.

“What’s that for?” she asks breathily.

“Nothing. Everything,” he replies equally breathless.

He can easily understand why the fire did not burn her. She is fire itself. She engulfs his mind and body in a sheer firestorm when they are together. The time he spends with her is the only time he allows himself to be truly happy.

 

“When I’m with you is the only time I can breathe easily,” he says frankly, following his train of thought. “The rest is just a burden and worry,” he says. Although he is hit immediately with another thought that he may be not wholly sincere. The duty is still the drive of his life, even if the definition of it slightly changed. Her safety became this nagging imperative that follows him everywhere. Again he recalls the words of Maester Aemon, ‘love is the death of duty’, and even though he tries to balance those two worlds, it is a constant battle.

“I know,” she replies quietly. “Still no news from King’s Landing?”

He shakes his head, in his estimation the Lannister army had an ample time for preparations and by this time they should be on the march. They should have heard of it by now.

“I think we may try to find out if the Lannister army is coming,” she interrupts his thoughts.

“What do you mean?” he asks and turns his head to meet her gaze. No matter how often he sees her, she always takes his breath away. She smiles slightly, “You have to put your trust in me again,” she says.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

Obviously she heard of Ghost. But she is taken aback by the sheer size of him. She watches him playfully greeting Jon. Ghost almost swiped Jon off his feet with the intensity of this greeting. It is a sheer joy to see Jon so happy. She loves Jon’s laugh, especially as it is such a rare occurrence in recent days. She slowly descends down the stairs leading to the main courtyard, she does not want to intrude on the meeting of two friends; Jon turns his head in her direction, “He’s back!” he says happily. She smiles back at him but as soon as her foot reaches the ground, she sees Ghost running towards her.

She freezes, as tif hrough the fog she hears Jon screaming anxiously “Ghost!” and running towards her, the Dothraki who followed her in some distance start to run down the stairs but Ghost is quicker. As soon as he reaches her he snarls but then his head raises and she is hypnotised by his eyes, disturbing red eyes. Ghost stopped snarling and inexplicably she puts out her hand towards him. Ghost sniffs her hand, whines gently and then rubs the top of his enormous head against her hand. She pats him tenderly and gives a reassuring signal to the Dothraki with her other hand. Jon stops in front of her and asks if she is all right. She smiles at him, “Ghost wanted to meet me,” she says quietly.

Ghost steps closer and sniffs her stomach, he turns his head towards Jon and then he slowly walks out of the courtyard.

“He’s a gorgeous beast,” she says. Jon smiles at this. “He’s not a beast to me, he’s my friend,” replies Jon. She smiles back at him. “Your true friends seem to accept me,” she looks deep into his eyes. Then she turns to her guards, “Ready the horses,” she orders them in Dothraki.

When they bring the horses, she mounts her white stallion quickly. Ever since she received the gift from Drogo she always preferred white horses. Their riding party is not large, just her, Jon and her Dothraki guards. They do not plan to go far and even though Ser Jorah insisted on accompanying her, she was determined to be alone with Jon. But then she saw Arya, standing in the shadows, watching them. ‘She’s always so watchful,’ she tells herself. A little girl who had to become a young woman so fast. Not much real joy in her life, Daenerys understood it completely. Jon still sees her as a little girl he said farewell to. She understands that he feels especially protective about his siblings but he also should begin to see them for what they are now. They all must have gone through a lot even if she does not know the details. But of all Jon’s siblings she feels the closest to Arya. Even if she is one of the Faceless Men. Well, maybe because Arya was the only one to whom she really spoke. She tells herself to try harder to get to know Sansa and Bran.

Suddenly she got an idea. “Arya?” she calls her. Arya walks towards her slowly and looks at her with the impassive face.

“How would you like to see a dragon up close?” asks Daenerys in a quiet voice.

Arya’s upturned face loses its impassivity and it is actually fascinating for Daenerys to see how the young girl lurks from behind the mask. Arya nods eagerly.

“Go to Ser Jorah Mormont and tell him I’ve changed my mind. He can come with us if he brings you too,” says Daenerys with a smile.

“I’ll tell him,” replies Arya. “But no one brings me. I bring myself.”

Daenerys understands immediately and nods in agreement. ‘I really like Arya,’ she tells herself.

 

**_Jon_ **

He should not have left Winterfell all those years ago. Maybe if he stayed the things would be different. Daenerys is standing beside him as they watch Arya and Brienne training. He cannot be anything but proud of Arya’s skills, she is quick, smart and she clearly knows how to defend herself. But deep down, he is saddened at what this knowledge must have cost her. He is reminded that where they are standing now used to be the place from which Ned and Lady Stark watched Robb and him teaching Bran to use the bow. Happier times, less complicated. He sighs deeply.

“She’s really very good,” says Daenerys. “I mean they both good, but Arya is…”

“She’s just a little girl,” Jon interrupts angrily but then checks himself. “She shouldn’t have to be that good.”

“She’s not a little girl, Jon,” says Daenerys firmly. “She’s a young woman who does what she wants to do and is what she wants to be.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he looks at her in frustration. “I gave her the Needle.” She seems not to understand. “Her sword,” he explains. “She named it ‘the needle’.” He sighs. “Sansa told me she was trained as an assassin, one of the Faceless Men. Have you ever even heard of those?”

She looks quickly at Arya. “I have,” she says. “When we were running from Robert Baratheon, there was always a threat of them being engaged by him.” She looks sad. If they were not in the public place he would have taken her into his arms. That must have brought some bad memories. “I’m certain Ned was…” he begins.

“Your father,” she interrupts, “was against killing me. Varys told me. He even resigned as the Hand over this. He was a good man, Jon.”

He does not know what to say. He did not know this. Sansa is very reluctant in describing their life at King’s Landing and Bran only told him roughly what happened, although some scenes were very detailed. Why did Daenerys not tell him?

He was about to say something when he noticed in the corner of the eye a very familiar white shape. “Ghost!” he cries and runs to get to the courtyard as quickly as possible.

Oh, he missed him so much. His loyal friend! Ghost is apparently very happy to see him too. He jumped on him with his two massive paws and almost knocked him over.  “Where have you been, boy?” asks Jon happily. “I’ve been looking for you. You were supposed to watch over Starks when I was gone,” he laughs and lovingly ruffles the fur on Ghost’s neck.

“Direwolf?!” says Ser Jorah who came to the courtyard “I never thought I would ever see one.”

Jon just smiles. He sees Daenerys coming down the stairs, he told her about Ghost many times, she wanted to meet him and finally Ghost is here. But then the direwolf suddenly leaves him and runs towards Daenerys. He is panicking now, he calls him and runs after him. But then he stops as he sees that Ghost was just curious. She lets Ghost to smell her hand and then she strokes his head. Well, that is the first. He is eerily reminded of his first real contact with Drogon. It is almost funny how the scenes mirror each other. Ghost accepted her and Drogon accepted him. But then Ghost does a strange thing, he comes even closer to her and almost nuzzles her belly. Then he turns his head and looks at Jon. He almost wants to ask ‘what is it, boy?’ but checks himself. It is not as if he understood even if Ghost was to bark the response.

The main thing is that Daenerys was not scared and she smiles happily at him, saying that Ghost accepted her as his true friends do. He wonders what she had in mind. Who of his closest people does not accept her? Should he be worried?

 

**_Daenerys_ **

She has been calling Drogon and Rhaegal in her mind all morning and they came. They were circling above their heads. She was observing Arya, for once her face was not a puzzle, she looks overjoyed. They are riding slowly through the Dothraki camp, it does not look as well organised as the Unsullied camp but she is relieved to see that they do not look especially uncomfortable. Obviously the weather was drastically different to the one they were used to but she took comfort in the amount of fur they were wearing and many fires burning all over the camp.

They are accompanied by Ghost and it seems he draws a lot of attention from the Dothraki. She catches the snippets of their conversations, they think it is an another magical animal that serves their khaleesi. At least once they saw him, they will not try to hunt him down the next time they will meet him.

She did not tell Jon what she really intended so she is seeing an unease on his face. He thinks she plans to fly alone and he is not happy about it. He does not omit to mention it. She just smiles.

When they finally reach the clearing, Drogon lands with a great thud and is soon followed by Rhaegal. She wonders where they go when she stays at Winterfell. She is worried about them. They are not as safe as she once thought them to be. Her mind goes again to Viserion. There are no words that can describe her hatred for the Night King. The thought of him using Viserion in that way boils her blood.

When they reach the dragons she quickly dismounts and walks briskly towards Drogon and Rhaegal. Jon tries one more time to dissuade her. For now she chooses to ignore him. She wants to touch her children. She reaches first for Drogon and is relieved to feel the warmth emanating from his body. Then she goes to Rhaegal and again she is comforted by the thought that they seem unfazed by the harsh circumstances. ‘I want you to meet my friend,’ she tells Rhaegal. ‘You are not to hurt him. He is very important to me.’

She then turns back and walks straight to Arya who also dismounted her horse and is staring at the dragons with fascination. “Arya,” she says quietly so that the others would not hear her. “It won’t be today but you have my word that I will take you for a ride on a dragon one of these days.” Arya’s face lightens up with the most joyous smile, almost like the one she had when she was reunited with Jon. “But for now,” Daenerys continues, “let’s keep it secret.”  “Yes, Your Grace,” replies Arya quietly.

Daenerys then turns and walks towards Jon who by now dismounted too. “Walk with me, Your Grace,” she says in her most regal tone. He follows her on her way towards the dragons and again tries to tell her that it is not safe for her to go alone. When they reach Drogon, she turns to Jon, “I won’t be alone,” she says and looks deeply into his eyes. “I’m not alone anymore.”

Not waiting for the reply she starts to mount Drogon. When she finally sits more or less comfortably, she turns her head to Jon, “Are you coming, Your Grace?” She smiles broadly at him. He was starting to say something but thought better of it; slowly he begins to get on the dragon. When he reaches her, she tells him to hold tight. She gasps as he grabs her hips. She turns her head again to him. “That’s not what I meant, Jon,” she tries to control her laughter. “You need to grab Drogon’s neck spikes.”

He finally repositions himself and when she is satisfied she says ’vlar’. Drogon smoothly takes off. She turns her head to look at Jon’s face, his eyes are wide open but he smiles.

 

**_Jon_ **

He is not happy about her plan. She wants to fly alone to see if there are any signs of the Lannister army on the horizon. He knows she flew on Drogon many times over long distances but ever since Viserion, the thought of her on a dragon who may be targeted terrifies him. And who knows how far the Army of the Dead really had got to.

Bran tells him they are still on the Gift but he did not see the Night King. It seems that the Night King senses him and Bran thinks that staying too close he may endanger them all. Bran also told him that he cannot find Jaime Lannister in King’s Landing so maybe it is a good sign. But then he also sees no army marching. On the other hand Bran cannot probably see the entire length of the King’s Road. He is not sure of any of it. He knows next to nothing about warging. He saw some of it when he was with the Wildlings but it seems like Bran can do more than that, only his explanations are very vague.

If the Night King rides Viserion, he can be anywhere and then Daenerys would be in danger. He tries to brush away bad thoughts but they linger.

He is surprised to find that the Dothraki are holding quite well, all considering. Many of them point at Ghost in agitation, fortunately none of them tries to attack him. And now they know that Ghost is on their queen’s side. No, not queen, what was it? Khaleesi? In any case he can clearly see with how much admiration they look at her. Well, he is not surprised. He looks at her like that and he did not see her stepping out of the flames. He will never understand how he managed to make this magical woman to fall in love with him.

“I’m still not so sure it is a good idea, Your Grace,” he tries again. They had this conversation in the morning but she was adamant and after a while he knew he could not say anything more. She greets her dragons tenderly, then suddenly walks to Arya. At least it made Arya happy, her face, so inscrutable these days, is radiating with sheer joy.  He does not hear what Daenerys and Arya are talking about but at least the conversation leaves Arya smiling. He must ask her later what it was all about.

Daenerys invites him to walk with her; he would rather say farewell to her in a more intimate circumstances but it must be a very private goodbye in public, at least for now. “I don’t like the idea of you being alone out there,” he says quietly. She turns to face him and says that she will not be because she is not alone anymore. He knows exactly what she means. She was alone, just as much as he was. But since they found each other, everything is changed. One thing does not change though just looking at her takes his breath away. He wants to tell her that he understands because he is not alone anymore either but she suddenly turns her back on him and starts to mount the dragon. That takes him by surprise, but he has no time to express that because she wants him to join her. So that was her plan all along? But why… He decides quickly that he does not have time to finish that thought. He starts to mount Drogon himself. When he reaches her she tells him to hold on. Without thinking, he grabs her waist. Only to be half mockingly admonished that he should rather hold to the dragon. That was stupid of him. He is embarrassed now, but he tries to find the most comfortable and secure position. And as soon as he does she tells Drogon to fly and the beast obediently follows her order.

There are no words to describe what he feels now. He had no real opportunity to talk to anyone who was rescued when they were beyond the Wall, so there was no one to prepare him for this. Exhilaration, happiness, pleasure? What should be the right word? Sometimes he had those dreams where he was flying but they did not even come close to what he is feeling now. And the strangest thing of all, it all seems nothing but natural to him. He is here because he should be here.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

They are flying along the Kingsroad as Jon instructed. There is no sign of any army coming their way. She is worried about it but her thoughts steer to Jon. Deep down she almost knew that they would not see the Lannister Army, but she wanted Jon to ride a dragon and enjoy it to the full. She knows he is busy all day with preparations so she wanted to present him with the gift of pure joy. She accomplished it. She heard him laughing loudly and that gave her an infinite pleasure. She thinks he is ready to fly on his own so she is looking for a nice secluded place to land. She sees a clearing within a small wood. She tells Drogon to go there.

When they land, Jon dismounts quickly and when he is on the ground he reaches with his hand to help her get off. It is not that she really needs his help but she restrains herself from pointing it out. When her feet reach the ground he pulls her to him and kisses her deeply. They stand in that embrace for quite a while and his kisses are hungry, intense. She understands and happily joins him in this show of exuberant joy. There is no one to watch them and spoil it for them. Well, there are two dragons there too but they are family, so she does not mind. When their need for kissing is more or less satiated, they just stand looking deep into each other’s eyes. She drowns in Jon’s eyes, they are warm and full of tenderness. She loves and is loved in return, what can be better than that?

He says that he saw through her plans and she just smiles in response. “I haven’t finished yet,” she says after a moment. She extricates herself from his embrace, takes his hand and leads him towards Rhaegal. “This is my friend I was talking about,” she says in Valyrian to Rhaegal. Then she turns her head to Jon, “Say something to him.”

“Say what?” asks Jon stupefied. “I may be half Targaryen but it doesn’t make me a Mother of Dragons.” He is right. She did not think it through. How do you introduce a stranger to her dragon to accept him as a rider? She bonded with all of them when they were born and yet it took a while and extreme circumstances for her to ride Drogon. In fact, it was Drogon really who initiated it. Would Rhaegal accept Jon that easily? She thinks furiously.

“Rhaegal,” she finally says in Valyrian. “I want you to take care of Jon. He is the most important person in the world to me. I want you to keep him safe for me. Would you do that?” She tries to read Rhaegal, she feels a positive response but she is not sure. As Tyrion once said to her, she should not believe things just because she wants them to be true. Rhaegal whines gently and turns his head towards Jon, he shows his teeth but she is almost sure it is a friendly gesture. It is a long way though from that to Jon actually riding Rhaegal. There is not much more that she can do now.

Jon reaches for Rhaegal’s head as he did with Drogon. And Rhaegal starts to sniff Jon’s hand, gently purring. She takes a step back. It should be just the two of them. Jon gently strokes Rhaegal’s head. Then he steps even closer. She tries to be calm, but it is not easy. Dragons are dragons, they do what they want and they are unpredictable sometimes.

After a long while, Rhaegal lowers his head and gently pushes Jon towards him, as if inviting him, he even lowers his shoulder. She holds her breath. Jon gives her a quick look and very slowly mounts Rhaegal. When he finally sits and grabs Rhaegal neck spikes, she exhales relieved.

“Back to Winterfell then?” she says. Jon nods quickly and gives her a slight smile.

 

**_Jon_ **

He is exhilarated, elated and excited, he wants to scream with joy. It is not better than making love to Daenerys but it is bloody close. He almost seems to forget why they are flying in the first place. She was just flying Drogon straight ahead in the southerly direction and he had to shout to her to turn to the left to get to the Kingsroad. But before she reacted he felt Drogon turning. Did Drogon just understand what he was saying? With all this excitement he finds it hard to focus his thoughts.

As he looks along the Kingsroad, there is no sign of anyone travelling towards Winterfell, and the least of all of any army. He begins to think that it was not really the plan. He thinks she just wanted him to fly the dragon. He recalls her mentioning it once but at that time he ignored it. Many things have changed since then. Even this annoying, nagging thought at the back of his head, that the Lannisters are not coming after all, is not going to spoil his mood now. He learns how to lean when Drogon changes directions and he is actually amazed how easily it comes to him. Again, it must be that Targaryen half of him. Or maybe because he is a good horse rider after all. In any case, he is very happy at the moment.

They go very low, he suspects she wants to land. Why would she do that if they hardly covered a long distance? They passed Cerwyn, and are just near Moat Cailin. It is clear to him that she just wanted a ride.

When they land he quickly dismounts, not even waiting for Drogon to lower his shoulder. The excitement of the ride is still buzzing inside him. And he thinks of a perfect way to relieve that tension. He pulls Daenerys close to him as soon as she is on the ground, he plunges into a hungry kiss. As their kissing deepens, his hands start to wander all over her body. And it is a good thing that it is winter and the snow is everywhere, otherwise he would probably not be able to stop himself from going further than just kissing. Sometimes he wonders at his forwardness with Daenerys. He had never actively pursued a woman. And yet he pursued her relentlessly. He still remembers those agonising moments when he stood in front of the door to her cabin. He never regretted it for a moment though.

“So this was your ploy all along to get me here?” he asks smiling at her when their lips part. She does not reply but he sees the truth in her eyes. Again and again, she always takes his breath away when he has an opportunity to look into her eyes. But then she takes him by the hand and walks him to Rhaegal. He guesses she wants him to get acquainted with Rhaegal as she still hopes he would ride him one day. Nah, that probably is not going to happen. Drogon and Daenerys have this magic bond between them, there is nothing magic about him.  But to satisfy her he vows internally to try.

She talks to Rhaegal in the language he does not know. It sounds less harsh that Dothraki. Aye, there is this other thing, he can only speak the Common Tongue. She asks him to say something to Rhaegal. He cannot believe what he is hearing. And what exactly is he supposed to say? In what language?

She looks confused. Well, probably not as much confused as he is right now. Again she speaks to Rhaegal. Right, he promised himself to try. And just like with Drogon, he takes his glove off and reaches to Rhaegal. The dragon growls but he sniffs him as Drogon did. He takes a deep breath and touches the head. In his mind he tries to convey some unspoken message to Rhaegal of his admiration and respect. Apart from the heat that he feels emanating from the dragon’s skin, he feels a rush of positive emotions running through his body. He is relaxed now and he steps closer. He does not understand it but he feels that Rhaegal accepts him. Especially as he looks into Rhaegal’s eye. Then the dragon nuzzles him and lowers its shoulder.  It cannot be clearer, Rhaegal decided to let him go onto his back. With almost no hesitation, he slowly gets onto Rhaegal. When he finally sits comfortably, he sighs loudly. Again this feeling of excitement and exhilaration comes over him. He is more than ready to try.

Daenerys suggests flying back to Winterfell. He agrees but he is bracing himself. When she leaves them and goes to Drogon, he says quietly, “Come on, boy, let’s fly home.” He did not expect the reaction from Rhaegal but to his surprise, the dragon took a couple of steps and took off seamlessly.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

From time to time she glances towards Jon, sometimes she meets his eye and she can see clearly that he is happy. But most of the times she just enjoys his elated face. Her heart fills with warmth at the fact that she was able to give him these few moments of sheer joy. He deserves it. So much.

As they are getting closer to Winterfell, she spots two lonely horse riders. She tells Drogon to go lower as she is curious. Through all their flight she has not seen a single person on the road, well there were some carts but they were going from the northern direction.

When she is nearer she is almost sure it is Jaime Lannister and some other man she does not recognise. She tells Drogon to land near them. When they do, she does not dismount the dragon, she just waits until they are close enough. They stopped when they saw her but after she landed they slowly moved on in her direction. She hears Rhaegal landing just behind her. But then she can feel Drogon getting tense and he starts roaring menacingly towards the riders. They stop again. She tries to soothe Drogon by gently stroking his neck but it takes a long time before he stops roaring. Instead he just growls at them. They both look terrified.

She decided to break the impasse. “Come closer, my lords,” she says loudly over Drogon’s growl. The men look at each other hesitatingly. “On foot, if you don’t mind,” she says in a cold voice. The men slowly dismount their horses and tentatively walk towards her.

“Ser Jaime,” she acknowledges Lannister. “And…?”

“Erm…Your Grace, this is Ser Bronn of Blackwater,” says Ser Jaime.

Drogon roars again very loudly. She feels that he is very unhappy. “My dragon took a particular dislike to you two, my lords,” she says.

Two men look at each other. “Maybe because he remembers us from the battle of Blackwater Rush,” says Ser Jaime.

She takes a closer look again, of course she remember that Ser Jaime was trying to kill her with the spear, but the face of Ser Bronn eludes her. Drogon roars again. Then it suddenly dawns at her, this is the man who shot at Drogon. She is silent for a moment, she just stares at them icily.

“I’m afraid my dragons are less forgiving than I am,” she says finally. “I expect they are waiting for some appropriate gesture.”

Ser Jaime jaws are clenching. “We came here as allies…,” he begins angrily but is interrupted by Drogon’s roar again. After a beat Rhaegal roars too.

“Well?” she asks menacingly. After a moment Ser Jaime finally kneels on one knee. He gives Ser Bronn a side glance. “I’m definitely not paid enough for all this,” says Ser Bronn but kneels nevertheless.

Her face is impassive but she feels that it should be enough. “Arise, my lords,” she says after a while. When they stand up, she asks, “So where are your armies, my lords?”

 

**_Jon_ **

Drogon seems to be landing, he did not notice before but he sees two men on horses. Jon does not say anything to Rhaegal, the dragon seems to know that he is to follow his brother.

Jon listens to the exchange between Lannister and Daenerys, but his thoughts are elsewhere. If they are here, where is the army? He knows that this is not good news. He is getting angry now as he suspects what the presence of only those two soldiers may mean.

He is startled by the sudden roar from Rhaegal. The noise reverberates through his entire body. He cannot explain it but he feels rather than knows that Rhaegal is angry. Well, the roar itself was a clue but there is something more, some sensation that he had not ever felt before.

Daenerys’s voice is quite steely, she is clearly displeased and she almost demand their humiliation. They are supposed to be allies after all. Is there anything he does not know? Lannister mentions the battle. She never told him the details. In any case, they do not seem to be in an envious position and they finally bend their knees.

When she asks them about the missing army, the men exchange a look. ‘Aye, this is definitely not good news,’ he tells himself.

“I’m afraid…” Lannister begins, “the Lannister Army is not coming.”

“Why not?” asks Jon sharply.

Lannister takes a long look at him. Jon sees that he is uncomfortable in relaying the message. “My sister…, despite the original declarations the Lannister army will not join your forces,” says Lannister finally.

Jon closes his eyes in anger but before he can say anything, Daenerys interrupts. “I presume you forgot to add ‘Your Grace’ at the end of that sentence, Ser Jaime?” she says coldly. “You are talking to the King in the North.”

Lannister looks at her annoyed but he concedes, “Your Grace, the army is not coming,” he says again. “And what’s more it is being reinforced by 20 thousand men from the Golden Company from Essos  who will be transported to Westeros by Euron Greyjoy.”

In the corner of his eye, Jon knows she is looking at him. Jon is too angry to look at her. This news is even worse than he thought. Not only they will have less men to fight the Army of the Dead, [‘No, fewer men,’ he corrects himself], but they may have to fight Cersei at the same time if she decides to go north. It is a disaster. He feels that Daenerys may bring up again the question of Viserion dying in vain. Tyrion’s plan failed, but he cannot blame Tyrion. He blames himself. He should have foreseen it. He got distracted, he trusted the enemy. He sighs resignedly.

“Then why are you here?” he asks Lannister, venting all his anger and frustration.

“Because I made a pledge to fight those dead men,” says Lannister in a firm voice. Jon grudgingly appreciates his stance and nods quickly.

“And I’m here because he owes me a castle,” says Ser Bronn pointing at Lannister. “And because he doesn’t fight so well with one fucking hand. I can’t let him die before he pays his debts to me.”

There is a long silence after that. Jon is still too angry to speak.

“Well, my lords,” says Daenerys breaking the uncomfortable silence. “You are welcome to join us in our fight for the living.”

 

**_Daenerys_ **

When Ser Jaime and Ser Bronn left them and continued their journey to Winterfell, she slowly dismounted Drogon and walked towards Rhaegal and Jon. He does not look at her, his eyes are closed and his face is upturned to the grey skies.

“Jon?” she calls him quietly. Only then he opens his eyes and turns his gaze to her. He looks so unhappy that her heart breaks. After a moment he gets down to the ground. She comes closer. “I know what you’re going to say,” he says in a resigned voice.

“That we’re fucked?” she asks. He gives her a sad smile. “Listen,” she continues. “There is nothing else to do but go on with our plans as before. We may not have as many soldiers as we wanted but there is no other way than to fight with those we have. And to use them wisely.” And then she adds after a beat, “I’m sure the battles had been won with worse odds.”

He looks at her with such tenderness in his eyes that she melts inside. Then he put his arms around her and hugs her tightly. They stay in their embrace for a long time.

She would never have guessed what he said next. He reminded her of his proposal when they were still sailing. She pulls away slightly to have a proper look at his face. She does not know what to say. His face seems sincere and he is watching her intently.

“What made you think of that?” she asks, catching her breath.

He looks sad. From what he is saying he has a gloomy outlook on their chances of surviving.

‘It can’t happen,’ she tells herself. She did not find him now, only to lose him almost immediately. If anything bad that had happened in her life so far was the price of meeting him and loving him, she would gladly go through it again if necessary. The gods, the fate, whatever or whoever is in charge of their future cannot be that cruel. And besides she had a dream. She saw them older, holding hands, looking towards the sea. Her dreams come true. They do.

She does not understand what is happening to her lately. She is so easily on the brink of tears and then suddenly she is full of joy. Looking into the eyes of the love of her life makes her want to cry now. She would do anything to make him happy.

“But what about your family? And Northern lords? And everybody?” she asks anxiously.

He says that he does not care. If she is to be honest she does not care either, even if she knows that she should; she should be responsible, reasonable, regal; she should not be reckless. If only she could.

Instead there is so much planning and talking to do. But first, she needs to be kissed. Hard. Deeply. To distraction.

 

**_Jon_ **

He has not even noticed when Lannister and Ser Bronn rode away to Winterfell. He feels defeated even before the real battle has started. 

Her voice wakes him from his stupor. She came to him and she is watching him with concern in her eyes. He dismounts and just looks at this incredible woman who even in the face of grave news remains calm; she even tries to joke. She really is as bad at jokes as he is. They are a perfect match. And then she tries to console him, she believes in him even after this fiasco. He thought many times what it was that he had done in his life to deserve her. He never found the answer. She is his friend, his lover and true partner in life.

A wave of tenderness engulfs him and he pulls her closely to him, he holds her tightly. There is this familiar whiff of her perfume that he finds so intoxicating. He never needed anyone so badly. He was always alone. And now he is not.

Then the thought struck him. What is he waiting for? There is no time to lose. If they are doomed he wants the rest of his life to be spent with her. Not as a secret, not as a shame hidden from others. It is selfish, he knows that. Maybe love really is the death of duty. He just wants to be happy with her if it is the last thing he does in this world.

“Do you remember what we agreed on the ship?” he asks, whispering into her hair. “I think it’s time to go through with it.”

She looks surprised and confused. For the shortest of moments he thought she changed her mind. He looks for any signs on her face. She wants to know why now.

“If it all ends badly, until then I just want us to be together for everyone to see,” he says simply. “I don’t want to hide anymore.”

He had enough of secrets. His life was a secret for so many years. Still is. There is only a handful of people who know the truth about him. It does not lie well with him. The world is full of secrets and lies. So maybe at least one secret about him and Daenerys should be finally revealed. He could breathe easier. Not that it is the sole purpose of it all but he wants to be able to take her in arms or just hold her hand whenever his fancy takes him and not be afraid of anyone seeing it.

It may be just his imagination but it looks like her eyes are welling up. He gets tense. But then she asks about the opinion of others.

“I don’t care about that,” he replies. Again, he understands that this is selfish and probably reckless, especially according to Tyrion, but he is just too tired to fight every battle.

He still waits for her response, though, to his original suggestion. “You didn’t tell me what you think,” he prompts her.

“Oh, just kiss me, you silly man.”

 

**_Daenerys_ **

When they land behind the camp from where they started earlier, there is no sign of Arya, but Ser Jorah and her Dothraki guard are there, waiting. And Ghost. She sees from afar that Ser Jorah is more than surprised to see Jon dismounting Rhaegal but she only smiles inwardly.

When they mount their horses she finds to her amazement that Ghost is running by her and not Jon. She looks at Jon but he is deep in thought so he probably has not even noticed.

“Ser Jorah,” she says when they walk through the courtyard to her chambers. Ghost is accompanying them. “ I want you to gather everyone in my chambers.”

“Everyone, Your Grace?” he asks.

“No, not everyone obviously,” she replies a bit embarrassed. “I meant Lord Tyrion, Missandei, Grey Worm and Varys,” she clarifies. And then adds again embarrassed, “And obviously you, Ser Jorah.”

She waits patiently for all of them to take their places. She smiles gently at the enormous shape of Ghost lying peacefully in the corner of the room. She is mildly amused by the fact that Ghost decided to stay with her. She wonders briefly what Jon is going to say about it.

She is used to making announcements and usually it should not bother her. This time, however, she feels uneasy. She is readying herself for a battle. She takes a deep breath.

“Tomorrow night… I am going to marry Jon Snow,” she finishes on the steadier note than the one she started on. She tries not to look at anyone particularly. She finally rests her eyes on Missandei.

There is a long, disconcerting silence after her statement.

“I don’t know where to start…” says Tyrion finally.

“I think congratulations are in order, Your Grace” interrupts Varys and nods politely. Tyrion looks at Varys furiously.

“May I ask, Your Grace, what prompted you to make such a rash decision?” Tyrion tries to keep his voice calm but she can clearly see that he is angry at not being consulted beforehand.

“I don’t consider it as such,” she replies calmly. “Under the circumstances, a strong alliance with the North should be viewed as an astute political move, the one I would expect from my Hand.” She does not want to be harsh with Tyrion but she could not help herself.

“The circumstances?” Tyrion asks unperturbed by the sting.

“Cersei Lannister decided to dishonour her pledge and is not sending the army to support us.” She sees that the news shocks everyone, just as much as it shocked her and Jon this morning. “What’s more, she contracted 20 thousand men from the Golden Company and plans to fight us. It is unclear if she wants to wait till the Night King is destroyed or sooner.”

“How… How do you know this?” asks Tyrion quietly.

“Your brother informed me this morning,” she replies.

“My brother?” Tyrion looks as if he disbelieves her. She nods quickly. “He should be at Winterfell any moment now. Together with Ser Bronn of Blackwater, I believe,” she explains.

It is a rare occasion that Tyrion is speechless.

She slowly look at the faces of the people that are gathered in the room; Missandei gently smiles but her look is concerned, Grey Worm’s face is impassive as ever, Jorah looks at the floor, Varys looks nervously at Tyrion and Tyrion just looks ahead of him.

“I must say that I agree with our queen, we need allies more than before,” says Varys bowing to her. “And at the moment I don’t see any other viable alternative. And I will try to make sure, Your Grace, that we are aware of the Golden Company steps when they reach Westeros. Do you know how are they planning to get here?”

“Euron Greyjoy’s fleet,” she replies. And her reply seems to be another shock to all.

“I presume Jon Snow is also cognizant of the facts?” asks Varys rhetorically. She nods quickly nevertheless.

“There is one more thing that you should know. But for now it has to be kept secret until the King in the North decides otherwise,” she says firmly looking straight at Tyrion. She tells them about the true parentage of Jon, explain it as plainly as she can.

“I think I have to sit,” says Varys.

“How long have you known this?” asks Tyrion.

“Since we came to Winterfell,” she replies calmly. Then adds, “Jon learned about it on the same day.”

“Who else knows?” Tyrion continues his invigilation.

“His family, Ser Davos and Sam Tarly,” she is now annoyed by this questioning. “And as I said, Jon decided not to share this information for now. What I’m telling you is being said in the strictest confidence.”

Then she looks at Tyrion again. “It doesn’t change a thing,” she tells him quietly but emphatically. Tyrion is about to say something but is prevented from doing so by the knock at the door.

Ser Jorah being the closest to the door goes to open it. There is a short murmur of conversation and then Jorah says loudly, “There is to be a war council meeting in the Great Hall now.”

 

**_Jon_ **

They walk across the courtyard with Davos, to whom he just related the recent mountain of news. He started with the wedding to which Davos reacted positively. It surprised him a little. “Congratulations, Your Grace,” said Davos with a big grin on his face. “I always knew it would end that way. Are you happy?”

Jon gave him a sheepish look and nodded slightly. “Good,” said Davos. “Not everyone will be happy with this,” Davos continued, looking around the courtyard, his eyes rested for a moment on Ser Royce and Lord Glover talking animatedly in the corner. “But fuck ’em. We have bigger problems at hand.”

“Speaking of which…” began Jon and then told Davos about the other news. The positive attitude of Davos faded quickly. He now walks beside him, gloomily staring at the ground.

Jon turns his head towards the gate where one of the guards seems to be shouting at someone. “I’m not saying that again. No beggars! Fuck off!”

Jon recognises the men standing in the shadows of the gate and then turns towards it. When he gets near, the guards notice him and bow their heads, mumbling “Your Grace”.

“Ser Jaime, Ser Bronn!” he addresses the two men. “Welcome to Winterfell.” The guards exchange a quick glance between them and then step aside to let the men go through.

“You need better guards, Your Grace,” says Lannister.

“So I’ve been told,” replies Jon. “My Lords, I presume you must be tired after your journey. We will arrange a place for you to rest but we will need to talk soon. I think you may join our war council to tell them more about the news you’ve told me earlier.”

Lannister nods and then looks around. “Winterfell seems to have changed a lot,” he says.

“It went through a lot,” replies Jon icily. He and Lannister stare at each other for a moment.

“Right,” says Davos. “If you can follow me, My Lords…”

He watches them going away but it does not escape his notice that they are also being closely watched by Ser Royce and Lord Glover. He sighs heavily. The alliances for this war are a complicated thing.

“Jon?”

He turns around to see Sam coming to him, he smiles at his friend, ‘At least one friendly face,’ he tells himself. “Good to see you, Sam,” he says.

“Yes, well, you too, Jon,” says Sam. “It’s good to see you smiling for a change.”

“There’s something I want you to know, Sam,” says Jon quietly.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

That war council meeting exhausted her. There was no shred of good news. The more they learned from Jaime the more they were depressed. She is sighing in relief that it has ended, it started to give her a headache. She absentmindedly pats Ghost as he walks beside her through the corridor.

When she reaches her room, she hears voices coming from the inside. That puzzles her. She opens the door only to find Missandei laughing quietly with Sansa. ‘This is a surprise indeed’ she tells herself.

Both Sansa and Missandei get up when she enters the room.

“Lady Sansa,” she says politely, “I didn’t know you were to visit me, otherwise I would have stayed…”

“Nnno, no, Your Grace,” Sansa stammers slightly. “I came to see if you require any help in the preparation for your wedding.”

She watches her closely, Sansa still has not met her eyes since Daenerys came into the room. She does not know what to think about it. Sansa has avoided her since they arrived at Winterfell and even now she looks uneasy. Jon must have told her about the wedding. Is that why she is really here?

Daenerys rakes her brain for things to say. Fortunately she is saved by Missandei, “Your Grace, I was showing Lady Sansa the dresses from which we can choose the one you will be wearing tomorrow. Of course, it needs to be changed a little as the climate here is not so forgiving as in Essos.”

She is grateful to Missandei, she made them all smile a little.

“Your dresses are beautiful, Your Grace,” says Sansa wistfully. “It’s a shame you can’t wear them now.”

“We must wait for the spring then,” says Daenerys, smiling slightly. “Would you like some of them, Lady Sansa? I mean, I know you are taller than me but I’m sure we can make something out of it.” She hopes it may build some bridges between them.

“You’re too kind, Your Grace,” replies Sansa and finally looks into Daenerys’s eyes. “I think you may be right. We have to wait for the spring. And please, call me Sansa, Your Grace.”

‘Maybe it is working after all,’ Daenerys tells herself. She asks them to sit down. She thinks that maybe she shad found a way to Sansa. “So which one would you choose, Sansa?” she asks. They spend several minutes talking about the dresses that are laid out on the bed. Sansa seems more relaxed, which is a huge relief to Daenerys as she can relax more now too.

“When I was a young, stupid girl, the pretty dresses were all I thought about…” says Sansa suddenly. She sounds sad and angry at herself at the same time. Daenerys thinks it demands some privacy so she gives Missandei a meaningful look. Missandei understands immediately. “Your Grace, I will be needing some more sewing materials, I will be back shortly.” Daenerys nod and looks and Missandei gratefully.

Sansa did not even react. She is lost in thought and looks at the dresses. Daenerys takes a deep breath. “All little girls dream of nice things,” she begins gently. “I dreamed of a nice house that I could call home, a place when I’d be safe and happy. Life doesn’t always give little girls what they want…” Sansa looks at her intently. “Sometimes it gives us harsh lessons. But I chose to believe that everything bad that happened in my life made me stronger. And I feel… that whatever happened to you, Sansa, made you stronger too.” She waits, she does not know if she said the right or the wrong thing.  

After a long moment, Sansa replies, “I wish I could talk to that stupid, little girl who dreamed of pretty dresses and pretty princes.”

“Would she listen?” asks Daenerys gently.

“Probably not,” replies Sansa and smiles shyly. Daenerys smiles back at her. She feels that this is a good beginning.

 

**_Jon_ **

Once again he sits with his siblings by the fireplace in Bran’s room.

“I know it makes sense,” says Sansa finally. “The alliance makes sense. But she is already here. She is an ally. You don’t have to marry her!” Her voice rises. “You don’t have to do this!”

“I know,” says Jon calmly. “I know I don’t have to. But I want to.”

Sansa looks at him for a long moment. “You never listen to me. Why should you start now?” she says bitterly.

“Sansa…” he begins gently.

“And how do you think the Northern lords react to that?” interrupts Sansa angrily. “They chose their own king because they didn’t want any southern ruler.”

“There might be no kingdom to rule if the Night King wins,” Jon is starting to lose his patience. “I think it’s high time everyone realised that,” he says in a raised voice. “All this squabbling between us makes no sense and we don’t have time for that!” He should have known that Sansa would react that way. But he is really tired of it now.

“Apparently Cersei doesn’t think so,” says Sansa coldly.

“You’re not Cersei, Sansa,” replies Jon trying to sound calm. “You’re Lady Stark of Winterfell.”

He watches Sansa’s face, he can clearly see that she is fighting within herself. Sometimes Sansa worries him. Actually all three of his siblings worry him. All of them went through so much. He worries that somewhere along the way they may have lost their gentle hearts.

“I still don’t understand why do you want to marry her now?” says Sansa in a strained voice.

“Because he loves her,” Arya joins the conversation. Sansa and Jon look at Arya. “What I don’t understand why it is so hard to see,” Arya says looking straight at Sansa. “Besides if we defeat the Night King, Jon and Daenerys will move out of here and you will be Lady of Winterfell, the Wardeness of the North. And everyone should be happy.”

Jon smiles to himself even if his annoyance has not subsided yet. He never allowed himself to look towards the future. It always seemed bleak. Maybe he should take some lessons from Arya, or Sam for that matter. Maybe he should begin to change his attitude. Now he has someone to live for. And he got his family back, even if it is smaller than before.

“Rhaegar and Lyanna loved each other,” says Bran suddenly. The sound of his voice almost made Jon jump. “Their love started all the troubles.”

“And Jon and Daenerys’s love may end the troubles,” says Arya quickly.

Jon wants to hug Arya. They were always so close. Some things have not changed after all.

Again there is a long silence after Arya’a statement. Jon is impatient to know what is their decision; even if he is determined to follow through with his plan, he would prefer if his family was behind him. “Do I have your blessing then?” he asks.

“Yes,” says Arya quickly. Jon smiles at her and then he looks at Bran, who slowly nods.  Jon’s gaze turns to Sansa. After a short while she nods quickly without looking at him. He sighs with relief.

“There’s one more thing,” says Jon nervously. “Someone should represent me in the wedding ceremony. It should be the head of the household but since Ned is no longer here…Sansa…?”

She stares at him with a look of absolute horror in her face. He did not think it through.

“You don’t understand what you’re asking of me!” cries Sansa.

His heart goes to her. “You’re right,” he says quietly. “I probably don’t.”

“I can’t,” Sansa is almost in tears. “I just can’t.” He stands up and walks quickly towards her, then he hugs her huddled frame. “I’m sorry, Sansa, I’m sorry.” She is now sobbing into his chest.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

She is nervous. The ceremony is not complicated and Ser Jorah explained everything to her but she knows nothing about the Old Gods of the Forest. She is afraid that she may inadvertently do something that may offend others. Therefore she is glad that not many people will attend the ceremony.

The Dothraki are carrying torches and she notices with some nervous amusement that they took a particular care to look presentable. She is not sure if they expect the same post-wedding behaviour as the one she witnessed at her own first wedding. She arranged for the wine to be distributed amongst her armies to celebrate her matrimony and she is a little worried that they may be carried away.

Ser Jorah is walking beside her, and on the other side is Ghost. He became her almost constant companion since yesterday. She thinks that he wants to protect her but she has no idea why he decided to do so.

But then she notices Jon standing by the tree, watching her intently. Her heart skips a beat. It is happening, it is really happening. She does not have eyes for anyone but him. He smiles at her and she smiles back. She feels the knot in her stomach tightening.

They finally reach the tree. ‘Here it goes,’ she tells herself.

Bran is pushed forward by Arya. “Who comes before the old gods?” he asks.

She looks at Ser Jorah, he probably does not enjoy his role so much. But she could not have thought of a better person to do it, she has no family, except Jon, and he is her oldest friend and protector.

“Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen comes here to be wed,” says Jorah loudly and clearly. “A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble.” She does not particularly likes this part but she assumes her regal poise that she has trained for years now. “Who comes to claim her?” continues Jorah.

Jon steps forward, “Jon Snow of House Stark…” he hesitates for a second, “and House Targaryen. Who gives her?”

“Ser Jorah of House Mormont,” says Jorah. She is almost oblivious to everything. She just looks into Jon’s beautiful eyes. She impatiently waits for the words.

“Will you take this man?” asks Bran finally. This is the moment she has been waiting for with bated breath.

“I take this man,” she says in a clear voice without a moment’s hesitation. Jon takes her hand solemnly and leads her closer towards the tree. They kneel in unison. She is supposed to be praying. This is not something that she has been doing often. But she looks intently at the face carved in the tree and she begs the Old Gods of the Forest to allow her be with Jon till the end of her days. She implores them to let her go first when her time comes, because she does not want to spend even a second without him. He is the only love of her life and she could not bear to live without him by her side. Her prayer is so intense that she almost misses a sign from Jon to get up from their knees. She stands up helped by his strong hand.

Jon then lets go of her hand and walks towards Sansa who hands him a dark cloak. He then turns to her again and takes off the outer cloak she was wearing and hands it over to Jorah. She feels his warmth when he puts the new cloak over her shoulders.

As far as she knows this is the end of the ceremony but Jon grabs gently her shoulders and turns her to face him. He looks deeply into her eyes and she just melts inside, then he takes her face into his hands and he kisses her tenderly, and quite chastely for him, in front of all those people.

She is the favourite of gods at this moment.

 

**_Jon_ **

He is standing by the weirwood tree with his family, Davos, Sam, Gilly and little Sam. Ah, and Maester Wolkan. He is fidgeting and keeps looking if the bridal party is coming. He is not worried that she does not come, he just would like to have it done already. The ceremony is short which suits him admirably and then only a short feast afterwards in a very intimate circle.

His mind keeps coming back to last night. Well, actually he spent the night in his own bed which is not something to think about. But before that he went to Daenerys’s room. He found her and Missandei beginning to prepare the bath. Missandei gave Daenerys ‘the look’ and quickly left the room. Only then he noticed Ghost sleeping soundly in the corner. “What does he doing here?” he asked stupefied. Daenerys smiled and looked at Ghost. “He keeps me company,” she replied. And then turned her head to Jon. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

That was the question he did not expect. In all honesty he did not know what to say. “I may not know a lot about the Old Gods but surely they would not approve of your visit a night before the wedding,” she continued when he did not reply.

He was speechless, surely she must have been teasing him. He stepped closer to her and took her in his arms but before he could kiss her, she pulled her body slightly away. “We both need a good rest tonight and besides I want to take a long, hot bath.” The way she said those last three words made him almost dizzy with desire.  He almost devoured her lips. But she broke the kiss. “I mean it, Jon, go!” she said, but her voice was shaky. “I really want to take that bath,” she said regaining her composure.

“I can help,” he offered.

She smiled demurely but shook her head. “We both know how it would end,” she said. And he knew that she was right. So he went to his own chambers in frustration.

But now he finally notices the torches. She is coming! At last. He keeps clenching and unclenching his fists. He is not nervous, just bloody impatient.

He hardly listens to what is being said. He just looks at her. If it is even possible she looks more beautiful than ever. She has three blue roses in her hair and their scent is sweet and intoxicating. But then there comes his part and he needs to wake up. In response to Ser Jorah’s question, he replies in a steady and strong voice, “Jon Snow of House Stark…” It suddenly dawns on him that he must be truthful in the eyes of the Gods. “And House Targaryen,” he finishes. Now it is almost official. Except that everyone gathered here knows about his heritage already.

When she says that she will take him, the sudden rush of sheer happiness runs through his body. They are as one till the end of his days. He takes her hand and they kneel in prayer in front of the weirwood tree. First of all he thanks the gods with all his heart for the miracle of her. She made his life worthwhile. He prays for her health and happiness and begs the gods that if they were to die soon, he wants to go first. He does not want to face the world without her.

They stand up and he goes to Sansa to take the cape she has sewn herself for Daenerys. He does not know what had happened but it seems that Sansa finally accepted Daenerys and it is a huge relief to him. The cape bears two sigils intricately combined, there is the Stark sigil and the Targaryen one. He is very touched by this gesture on Sansa’s part.

Now finally and in front of the whole world he is hers and she is his. He takes her exquisite face gingerly in both hands and kisses her tenderly. Despite the cold that surrounds them, her lips are warm and inviting as ever.

Now only this feast to go and he will be finally allowed to worship every inch of her body in the privacy of her chambers. His wife’s body. His wife.

 


	9. Kingsroad

Kingsroad

 

**_Author’s note:_ ** _This chapter is dedicated to indomitable NoOrdinaryLines – thank you for your unwavering support._

**_Daenerys_ **

She was wrong before. ‘This has to be the best awakening of all,’ she tells herself. She was woken by a tender kiss on her lips, and then the kisses continued along her neck, her breasts, her stomach, her inner thighs and finally got very intense when he reached her core. She arched her back as the pleasure was just too much to handle, her hands were desperately grasping the sheets. And then his fingers joined his lips in taking her to the lands of absolute bliss. It did not take long for her to cry in ecstasy.

Her body is still reverberating with spasms of rapture but she tries to steady herself as she is determined to reciprocate the pleasure to her gentle but passionate lover. She turns her head to look at Jon and is met with the gaze full of love and desire.

For a moment she feels like crying as her mind recoils at the realisation that the only thing that she could give him to make him truly happy is beyond her reach. He deserves so much more. He should have children to help to build a better world. She knows that she has trapped him. Her barrenness is like a thorn in her side, more now than ever before. She wants to change the world but Tyrion was right. How does she plan to achieve that when there is no one to leave it to?

She hopes that if any of them should die fighting the Night King, it would be her. Thus Jon would be free to marry someone else and realise the dream of a new, better world. She knows that if anyone is capable of that it is Jon. Her beautiful, honourable, kind, wise and just Jon. If her life is the price for his happiness she would gladly pay it. She knows he loves her but maybe in time his heart would heal and he would find happiness again. He deserves to have it all.

“What’s wrong?” asks Jon anxiously. ‘Oh, you stupid, weak woman,’ she berates herself inwardly. She lost control over her face and apparently he saw it.  Now is the time to fight for the living as long as they can draw the breath and not drowning in dark thoughts. To hide her previous thoughts she rolls over onto him and tries to drown him with her kisses. Fortunately for her, he is easily distracted.

 

**_Jon_ **

When he woke up, he rather felt than knew that it was much later than usual. No surprise there, as they finally fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning. He turns his head to look at the lovely face of his wife, sleeping soundly beside him. As always she takes his breath away. It still seems unbelievable to him that he was so fortunate. There is this nagging thought at the back of his mind that he does not deserve her.

When he looks back, he cannot believe where he ended, considering where he started. He never planned any future for himself, apart from dying on some frozen field fighting the Wildlings.

He looks at her calm, peaceful face and his heart melts at the sight. Love is the death of duty. Maester Aemon’s words haunt him. His duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves has driven him all his life, but now a different aim seems to guide him, above his duty. He wants to survive for her. If he dies, it might break her heart, because deep down he knows she loves him at least as much as he loves her. And he cannot bear the thought of breaking her heart. She gave his life a true meaning. And he wants to spend it with her. It is a selfish thought. Quite out of his character, and yet he cannot help himself. He never thought that going to Dragonstone would change his life forever. He recalls how he saw her for the first time and how stupidly he fought with his feelings towards her later on. ‘Waste of precious time,’ he tells himself.

He knows that their grim reality is waiting patiently behind the door of their room and there is nothing they can do about it, even if they deserve some more happiness on the first day they face the world as husband and wife. She is asleep and she needs a rest but again this newfound selfish streak in him makes him hungry for her. He wants to worship her body. Now. He cannot wait. Patience was never his strong suit.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

It scares her how quickly a morning of perfect bliss could turn into a horror. She still does not understand how Bran can see those things and yet Jon seems to believe him without a shadow of a doubt.

The news shook everyone. She vaguely remembers a young boy, Lord Umber, surrounded by much older men, when he informed Jon on their decision of going home. Now apparently Last Hearth is gone or rather empty. During the discussion between Jon’s and her advisers and few Northern lords, she observes thunderous face of Jon, who sits silent without looking at anyone.  Hesitatingly she puts her hand on his fist. Only then he turns his gaze towards her, his eyes are full of sadness and quiet anger, but when their eyes meet there is a shadow of a quick, reassuring smile on his lips.

“Drogon and Rhaegal are near,” she whispers to Jon. “I can call them, we could fly and see for ourselves.” Despite her whisper, she unfortunately chose a moment when there was a lull in the discussion. All eyes turn to her but she only looks at Jon. He seems to be mulling over her proposition.

“It’s dangerous, Your Grace,” says Tyrion in a quiet voice. She knows he is worried about her and she appreciates it.

“We live in dangerous times, Lord Tyrion,” she replies gently and gives Tyrion a sad smile.

“But,” interposes Jorah,” what if you encounter the Night King riding…” He does not finish and she knows why. He was about to mention Viserion. She closes her eyes as sharp pain shoots through her heart. She feels Jon’s hand covering her own now and gently squeezing it.

She does not participate in the rest of discussion that ensues as her thoughts are full of Viserion.  She does not even react as that annoying Lord Glover’s terse remarks. She feels that tears are welling up in her eyes so instead she focuses on fighting them. There is something wrong with her these days. She has never experienced being so weepy before, it is a weakness and she has to remind herself again and again that queens should not show weaknesses.

But she looks down the hall where Arya stands in the shadows and their eyes meet.

 

**_Jon_ **

He blames himself. He should not have let Lord Umber go back to Last Hearth. He should have protected them. Anyone else would look for excuses. Not him. It does not matter that it was the day when his mind was elsewhere. It does not matter that his personal life was in a turmoil. He should have stopped them from going. He should have insisted on Umbers coming all to Winterfell instead. And Wildlings. Now they are gone. Probably incorporated into the Army of the Dead. It is all his fault. He lost focus that day. And since that day he has been more interested in spending time with Daenerys than concentrating on the war. Well, maybe that is not entirely true but still… Nevertheless he blames himself.

He curls his hands into fists. He is very angry at himself. And he should have known this day will be bad because when he left Daenerys he met Sam and Bran. These days each time he sees them together, he shrinks internally. They are his own harbingers of doom.

Daenerys places her hand on his hand and he tries to calm himself. She looks worried, to be honest everyone looks worried. Suddenly he feels tired. Of this war, of people talking at him, of people squabbling, of constant problems. Just tired of fighting with it all.

She proposes that they fly to Last Hearth. Maybe it is not a bad idea. Both Tyrion and Ser Jorah try to dissuade her from it. He sighs.

“So again Winterfell will be without the King. Or should I say without the Queen now?” Lord Glover joins the conversation.

“I think that is enough, Lord Glover!”

He is surprised that Sansa spoke in such a harsh tone.

“Neither the King nor the Queen are abandoning Winterfell or the North for that matter,” Sansa continues rebuking Glover. It is time to intervene.

“Lady Sansa is right,” he nods towards Sansa and gives her a grateful look. “The Army of the Dead is coming. We need to focus and get prepared. Ser Jorah, Grey Worm, you’re responsible for the Dothraki and the Unsullied to get ready. Be sure that everyone has dragonglass weapons. I want everyone to remember that unless you have a weapon made of Valyrian steel,” he looks briefly at Ser Jaime sitting in the far corner of the hall with Ser Bronn, “the only real option is dragonglass. The same goes for Lord Royce and Lord Glover as far as the Knights of the Vale and Northern armies are concerned. It’s time to meet the real enemy.”

He is silent for a moment.

“One more thing,” he says in a deep voice. “If anyone from our side is killed… make sure… that you plunge a dragonglass weapon into them… to avoid the White Walkers turning them into wights. We don’t want to fight our own.”

**_Daenerys_ **

Arya followed her out of Great Hall into the courtyard. Daenerys looks at her intently and gives her a small smile.

“You should put some really warm clothes on,” she tells Arya. “It’s colder up in the air.”

She enjoys seeing Arya’s eyes lit up. They seem to understand each other without too many words. She feels that she understands Arya better than Jon does, to be honest, and she admires her courage. ‘I really like this girl. She is a true Stark, so much like Jon’ she tells herself. Suddenly she feels embraced for a very quick moment. She smiles at the young warrior. Arya’s face remains impassive though.

“Your Grace,” says Arya finally. “How did your third dragon die?”

The smile disappears from Daenerys’s face. She is silent for a while. “Viserion,” she finally replies quietly. “The Night King pierced his heart with a spear.” She feels the tears gathering up again.

Arya looks at her with a very intense stare. “We will avenge him,” she says in a cold voice.

Daenerys smiles weakly as she is fighting the tears. “We will.”

“I have to get ready then,” says Arya in a firm voice.

Daenerys only notices now, but a young man was listening to their conversation and he walks briskly towards them. He stops suddenly when he hears the warning growl from Ghost who stands by Daenerys.

Both women turn their heads to look at the man. Daenerys seems to recall that she must have seen him somewhere before but she cannot place him. “You can’t be seriously going on that thing?” he says accusingly to Arya, “It’s not safe.”

“Shut up,” says Arya impolitely. And as Daenerys looks at him quizzically, Arya introduces the man. “Your Grace, this is Gendry.”

Only then Gendry looks at her, quite haughtily she notices. “I’m Gendry,” he says. “The bastard son of king Robert Baratheon.”

The silence between them is tense. Ghost growls again menacingly, Daenerys’s eyes are narrowing.

“Why does that beast growl at me?” Gendry asks Arya.

“Because you threaten the Queen, you idiot,” replies Arya coldly.

“I done nothing,” he defends himself.

“I haven’t done anything,” corrects Ser Davos who suddenly joins their little group. “I beg your forgiveness, Your Grace,” he says gently. “Flea Bottom of King’s Landing is not the best place to learn manners, even for a young man with some brains. But he is a good lad. I vouch for him. And he was part of the expedition beyond the Wall.”

Daenerys looks closely at Gendry. Yes, now she remembers him vaguely from the ship.

“And thanks to his perseverance, we were able to send a message to Dragonstone.”

“I must thank you then,” says Daenerys graciously. “Without you, we wouldn’t be able to get the proof for Cersei,” she hesitates for a second, “even if it all came to nothing in the end. But at least we were able to save our men and some of them are very important to me.”

Davos smiles gently, looking at the ground.

“Yes, well, I’m sorry about your dragon though,” Gendry replies with uneasy sincerity.

“Your Grace,” prompts Arya.

“Yes, Your Grace,” finishes Gendry obediently.

Suddenly Daenerys feels a strong hand grabbing her waist possessively. Before she has time to react, she can hear the voice that is for her the sweetest in the world, that of her husband. She leans gently into him.

“What is it all about?” asks Jon.

Gendry notices Jon’s gesture and slowly raises his eyes to Jon’s, smiling knowingly. But then his face changes. “Arya plans to ride a dragon today,” he says quickly, addressing Jon.

“WHAT?” asks Jon with face like thunder.

 

**_Jon_ **

He stands in the middle of his room, looking around, trying to figure out where in the seven hells are his clothes and other stuff. Not that he has much but still…

“I had your things moved to the Queen’s chamber.”

He turns to face Sansa. “Oh, right, thank you, Sansa.” She is standing in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe and looks at him with a worry in her face.

“What is it?” he asks her.

She does not reply for a moment. Then she straightens herself up but she lowers her gaze to the floor. “So this is it then?” she asks hesitatingly. “The war is upon us.”

“I’m afraid it is,” he says gently. “You should be safe here. We will try to steer them away from Winterfell. And I ordered Grey Worm to leave two hundred Unsullied inside the castle. They’re good soldiers. They will protect you,” he tries to reassure her. “And they’re not so wild as the Dothraki.” He smiles at her.

She nods but still does not look at him. “Jon,” she sighs deeply as if she was steeling herself to say something that is hard for her to tell. “What do I do if you don’t come back?” She finally meets his eye.

Now it is his turn to sigh deeply. “You fight.”

“Fight?” she looks at him in disbelief. “I’m not Arya, I don’t know how to fight.”

“I didn’t mean you taking up a sword,” he smiles again. “You’d do what you are best at. You organise, support and give your strength to others who are weaker than you.”

“Jon…”

“Sansa,” he interrupts. “I can’t promise you that everything will be fine. It will be hard.” He looks at her closely. “I think you prefer the truth from me, don’t you?” She nods quickly.

“And if I don’t come back but we will win, you will be the strong leader the North needs.” He does not know what else he is supposed to say to her. The situation is grim and there is no sense in pulling the wool over her eyes. “The people around you are good people that you can trust, Davos, Tyrion,… even Varys. They will guide you in good direction.” She remains silent. “Now that you got rid of Little Finger, the only worry is Lord Glover,” he smiles at her again. “But I’m convinced that you’ll know how to deal with him.” She finally gives him a small smile.

“There is one thing I need to ask you though,” he says after a while. “I’d like you to support Daenerys when I’m gone… You don’t know her well but she is the hope not only for the North but for all Westeros. Westeros deserves a good ruler if it survives the White Walkers. And she is all that.”

“I know,” replies Sansa to his surprise. “She is not what I thought her to be.”

He wants to ask what it means but he has no chance as Sansa continues. “Don’t worry, Jon. She’s family. And I love my family.”

As words fail him, he walks towards her and places a soft kiss on her forehead as their father used to do.

“Thank you, Sansa. For everything.”

“Thank you, Jon”

He turns to leave the room but is stopped by Sansa’s voice. “And one more thing… come back safe.”

He smiles, nods and walks out of the room. He goes to Daenerys’s chamber. Maybe he should stop calling it that. As it is now their room, if he was to be honest, it was from the first night since they arrived at Winterfell. He smiles to himself as he recalls the nights he spent there. ‘No guards, no Daenerys,’ he tells himself as he looks down the corridor. So he turns away and goes out into the courtyard. He sees her talking to Arya. From what he saw in the previous days they really seem to hit it off. Their characters are not unlike so he suspects that they respect each other. He looks at them with warmth. His two absolute favourite people in the whole wide world. He was walking slowly towards them but he stops suddenly because of what he has just seen. Arya actually embraced Daenerys. Well, he did not expect that. But then he starts again and even quickens his pace as he sees Gendry approaching them. In all that commotion, he never once mentioned to Daenerys who Gendry really is. He fears that there might be trouble. He sighs inwardly with relief when he sees Davos joining them. He trusts Davos to diffuse any problems if they arise but still he needs to be there too.

Then Gendry news about Arya shocks him to the core.

“Absolutely not,” he says angrily. “It’s far too dangerous. In fact, I don’t want you to go there either,” he looks at Daenerys. He was too hasty. He can almost see the clouds gathering in her eyes.

“As much as I appreciate your concern,” she says icily, moving away from him, the sudden lack of the warmth of her body leaning against him is painful, “I have already decided to go with or without your consent.”

He winces. “That’s not what I meant…”

“And as for Arya,” interrupts Daenerys, “I believe it’s up to her if she wants to go. She is wise enough to appreciate the danger.”

“I’m going,” Arya chimes in.

“Look,” he begins calmly, “I know that both of you are brave and can take care of yourself, it’s just…”

Once again he is unable to finished the sentence. Dealing with stubborn women seem to be his destiny.

“It’s just that you love us and you’re afraid for our safety,” Daenerys concluded his very short speech. “I understand but we’re going,” she smiles and once again leans into him, but this time she takes his face into her hands and places a deep and tender kiss on his lips. His arms embrace her as it is his second nature now.  When they finally part, he shakes his head at her but he smiles and she smiles back.

“Ha!” exclaims Davos. “That’s the one trick I can’t pull when I try to convince Your Grace to do something.” Davos smiles at him mockingly. “Well played, Your Grace,” Davos slightly bows to Daenerys.

For the first time ever he sees a healthy blush on her face. He watches her rapturously.

“We need to change then,” declares Daenerys to cover her embarrassment. Arya and Daenerys walk away together.

“Well, I’m still not happy about this,” says Gendry, pointing his finger at Arya.

“I’m sorry lad, but there is no one here left to kiss you,” quips Davos. Gendry walks away in a huff.

Suddenly Davos chuckles. Jon looks at him surprised.

“Do you remember how I asked you once about her?” Davos says smilingly. “What was it you said? There’s no time for that, was it?” he teases.

Jon gives Davos a weak smile. “Seems like ages ago.”

“Yes, it feels like it,” Davos gets serious for a moment. Then the cheeky smile comes back anyway. “But I knew even then. You can’t fool the old fox like me.” Davos looks at Jon searchingly. “Now you just have more reasons to live. You have a future. And your future children will need you. Don’t be too eager to lose your life. You don’t have to be the last man standing on the battlefield.”

“I don’t…” Jon tries to interrupt.

“The queen and you love each other. That is obvious even to the blind man. Build on that. Westeros needs you both to get rid of all this shit that is there.” Davos pauses for a moment. “I lost my own son for no valid reason as it seems to me now. If you forgive me, Your Grace, I look upon you as my son, and… and I don’t want to lose one again.” He clears his throat. “I guess what I’m saying is… just be careful. You and Daenerys.”

Jon smiles at Davos gently. “I’ll do my best,” he says in a quiet voice, putting his hand on Davos’s arm.

“No!,” Davos reiterates. “You must do much better than that.” They stand for a while in silence, then Jon embraces Davos quickly and pats his back.

Davos grunts something unintelligible, looking at the ground and leaves him. Jon looks at the retreating figure.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

As they walk into the castle, Daenerys looks at Arya with newfound interest.

“That boy, Gendry,” she begins gently. “He seems to care for you.”

Arya looks at her with an unreadable face. “We are friends. He was helping me when I was escaping from King’s Landing.”

Daenerys smiles to herself. “It looked like it was more than that.”

“I don’t care about that,” says Arya quickly. They walk for a bit in silence. “He told me I was pretty.”

“That’s because you are,” says Daenerys. Again the silence followed. When they are almost at her door, Daenerys turns to Arya and they stop. “Revenge can’t fulfil the whole life. It can be a part of it, but there is so much more to life. I thought that my destiny to restore Targaryen rule was my sole purpose in life. And all I’ve suffered was to get my reward. I wanted to crush my enemies, kill all those that hurt my family. And yet now I’m fighting on the same side as Jaime Lannister who killed my cruel father and son of Robert Baratheon who killed my brother and ordered the killing of the rest of my family. And I love a man who was raised by Ned Stark who helped to destroy Targaryen rule. My purpose in life changed and I’m much happier with it. Now I want to fight for the right to live a peaceful life with your brother by my side. And… Gendry seems like a good and honest man. Maybe he needs a bit of polishing in general but he is not bad to look at.” She looks at Arya with a gentle smile in her eyes.

Arya lowers her gaze.  “Maybe later. Now I have to change into warmer clothes.” She looks into Daenerys’s eyes. Daenerys cannot be sure but there seems to be a definite twinkle in Arya’s eyes. But then she nods slightly and walks away. ‘I can’t even hear her move. So stealthy,’ thinks Daenerys as she looks after Arya’s retreating figure.

“Your Grace!”

She stops with her hand hovering over the door handle and looks towards Tyrion walking in her direction.

“If I have a moment of your time, Your Grace?”

She nods and opens the door, she walks in followed by Ghost and Tyrion.

“Whatever it is, it must be quick, I need to change,” she says in a firm voice.

“Obviously, Your Grace,” concedes Tyrion. “You are readying yourself for the battle…”

She knew that the silence from Tyrion since she told them about her intention to marry Jon meant something. She expects a lecture and she is somewhat annoyed by it.

“I expect you came to try to change my mind?” she tries to keep the annoyance from her voice.

“May we sit, Your Grace?” asks Tyrion gently. “This pacing of yours to and fro makes me a bit nervous.”

She nods, she is not fair to Tyrion. She chose him as her Hand, so at least she should listen to what he has to say. She tries to calm herself and assumes her regal poise. Out there in the courtyard she behaved like a spoilt little girl and what was worse she is afraid she made Jon look silly. It is unforgivable, a queen should not behave like that in public. She vows to make amends.

“Your Grace, I’ve been thinking… No, this is not where I want to start… I’ve been in love twice in my life.” She turns her head in his direction. This is not what she expected at all.

“Twice I was unlucky, it ended badly. The second time was even worse… Is there wine here? I think I need wine.” Tyrion looks around the room.

She points to the table in the far corner of the room.

He walks slowly to the table and pours himself a generous amount of wine. “Will you join me?” he asks.

“No, I don’t think I should,” she replies quietly. “Not now.”

“Ah, yes, the battle,” he muses. “If we are to die maybe it is better to be drunk and happy before. Anyway,” he walks slowly back to his chair, “it is not about the battle I want to talk to you.”

She almost wanted to hurry him but then she thought that it seems important to him. And she owes him that.

“As I was saying, the second time I was truly in love, I killed the woman I loved because she betrayed me. Twice over. Hmm, twice seems to be a theme here.” He takes a long sip of wine. “Oh and by the way, I also murdered my own father at the same time. Twice the murderer on the same night. That night part of me died. A huge part of me. “ He sips his wine again. “Well, maybe not ‘huge’ huge because I’m but little, yet let’s call it a substantial part of me died.” He sighs and sips again. “Since then I became even more cynical than I was before. I mean not wholly cynical as I found new purpose in life – serving you. Because I believe in you,” he glances at her intensely, then his eyes turn to the contents of his goblet.

As it is getting emptier by the minute, Daenerys stands up and goes for the big carafe and she brings it to where they are sitting. Tyrion smiles at her guiltily.

“But I came to the conclusion that love is the worst advisor when it comes to life’s decisions. It blinds us, it makes us impulsive, it makes us dangerous. Look at my deranged sister! She claims to love her family, in Jaime’s case literally, and that love made her a monster.” Another long sip of wine. “You were right, my Queen. I love my family and that love blinded me to the point that I got outsmarted by people who are not that smart. I let you down.”

She tries to say something at that but she is stopped by Tyrion’s commanding hand gesture. “No, it is true. My plans mostly failed. I didn’t see clearly. I wanted the best of all worlds. I’m ashamed to admit that I was unbelievably naïve.”

“Maybe this is too much wine, Tyrion,” she says quietly.

“There’s no such thing as too much wine, when you try to drown your misery, Your Grace,” Tyrion downs the rest of the wine and reaches for the carafe. He pours another copious measure.

“But then I saw you and Jon Snow, or Aegon Targaryen as he is known to his friends,” he winks at her and she is worried now. He will be drunk soon, if he is not drunk already. She should stop him but she feels sorry for him.

“You are both…” Tyrion stopped as the door opened suddenly and Jon walked in.

 

**_Jon_ **

“Ah, the other half of a glorious couple,” he is greeted by Tyrion holding his cup high. Jon looks at Daenerys with unspoken question. She shrugs her shoulders.

“As I was saying to our Queen, you, Your Grace,” he looks at Daenerys, “and you, Your Grace,” he looks at Jon, “are two extremely worthy people who are truly in love and, despite my misgivings about love, I believe in you both. You two are the best that could happen to Westeros in my humble opinion. Long live Queen and King of Westeros!” Tyrion raises his cup and then drinks it all.

“You’re drunk, Tyrion,” says Jon annoyed.

“That may as well be true. But I need to say another thing.” Tyrion gets up from his chair, a bit wobbly. “I apologise. It was my fault that we lost Dorne and Greyjoys, it was my fault that Viserion died, it was my fault that we got no support from Lannister army, and since the Wall fell because the Night King used Viserion, it was my fault that that the Wall fell and the dead are marching on us. Once again I apologise. Your Grace if you want your pin of the Hand back, I completely agree with your decision.”

“That is enough,” says Daenerys coldly. “Self-pity is not the quality I admire about you, Lord Tyrion.”

“Ah, yes,” nods Tyrion. “I’ve been told something similar by my dear friend Varys. Maybe I should begin paying attention?”

“Tyrion,” says Jon calmly, “no one is saying or believing that everything is your fault. We are about to face the worst enemy this world has ever known. You can’t be drunk now. You’re staying with my sister and others in Winterfell and they will need your clear head and common sense. Put your head into the bucket of cold water and help others because they need you. We need you sober.” He ended on a more aggressive note that he intended to, but it seems to take an effect on Tyrion. His face is serious and his eyes are focused on Jon’s face.

“You’re absolutely right. I made a fool of myself.” Tyrion turns his gaze to Daenerys. “I am sorry, Your Grace. I’m not drunk, my head is surprisingly strong; years of practice, I suspect. However I meant what I said that I understand if you want the pin back. And I meant it when I said that I believe in you both.”

“I don’t want my pin back, Lord Tyrion,” says Daenerys gently. “We need you. More than ever now.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Tyrion’s eyes seem to be brimming with tears.

“One more thing before I go,” Tyrion keeps switching his gaze between Daenerys and Jon. “I don’t think I’ve said it before. I’m very happy for you both. You found each other and that in itself is a miracle. You deserve each other, in the best sense of the word. Just… bloody come back alive. Please.”

Tyrion nods and leaves the room, no longer wobbly.

Jon looks at Daenerys and they smile at each other. “Did you hear? We’re the bloody miracle.” He pulls her to him and hungrily kisses her.

When they part, she puts her hands on his face. As he thinks she is about to kiss him again he is more than ready. But her face is serious and worried. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

He does not understand. “What for?” he asks stupefied.

“For how I behaved in the courtyard, just now.”

“Why? What did you do?” He still does not understand.

“I made you look foolish,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

“You did nothing of the sort,” he kisses her nose. “Now, you said you needed to change. I think I can help.” He starts to undress her. War or no war, he wants her very badly. Suddenly he stops. “Wait!”

He walks towards Ghost who sleeps lazily stretched near the fireplace. As Jon approaches, Ghost raises his big head and whimpers softly. “Ghost, I think you should leave now. I don’t think you want to see what is about to happen, boy.” He can hear Daenerys chuckling behind him. Ghost looks towards Daenerys. “It’s all right, boy, I’m here now. I can protect her now. At least from others.” Daenerys chuckles again. He walks Ghost to the door and closes it behind him.

“Why did he get so protective of you?” he asks.

“I don’t know but I feel safer with him,” she smiles at him happily.

“At least until this moment,” he says in a deep voice.

“We’ll be late,” she says but does nothing to stop him, she begins to undress him too.

“Sometimes the world has to wait,” he says and drowns any further protests from her by devouring her lips.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

“Don’t be afraid,” she says reassuringly.

“I’m not afraid” replies Arya.

Daenerys smiles slightly. “You need to hold on fast to his neck spikes,” she explains.

“What if I need to use my hands?” asks Arya bluntly.

Daenerys looks at the big bow on Arya’s back and a massive sack full of arrows attached to her belt. “Well,: she muses, “if your thighs are strong they would be of some help but you could easily lose your balance and…”

“And die,” finishes Arya. “I know, Jon would be livid about that.” They share a sly smile.

“Why would I be livid?” asks Jon as he walks towards them. “What’s that?” he cries pointing at the bow.

“I think it’s pretty obvious,” Arya replies coolly.

“Don’t be smart,” he says angrily. “Why do you need that?”

“You never know what might happen. The Needle is useless here but I’ve got my dagger.”

“You won’t be anywhere near to use it.”

“That’s why I’m taking bow and arrows with me.”

“How…”

“Please, stop it, both of you,” Daenerys interrupts in a tired voice. As much as it is entertaining to watch them squabble, there is no time to waste. Jon and she wasted enough time already. Their armies are ready to march.

“Let’s just figure out how to keep her on the dragon when she wants to shoot,” she says. A quick thought runs through her mind, she mellowed. She cannot remember when she last had so much patience with petty squabbles.

“Why don’t you have a saddle?” asks Arya suddenly.

“Good point actually,” agrees Jon.

Right, now her patience has worn out. She turns on her heel and walks towards her Dothraki guards. “Bring me a long, strong rope.” While she waits she observes her children. She knows them well. They seem agitated. From time to time they look up to the sky and whine. She sensed it first as she approached Drogon. Her bond is not so strong as she would have imagined. She knows that something is wrong but she does not know why. And there is no one she can just ask. Maybe it was the bad idea to take Arya with her. She herself does not feel all too well. Maybe this is it. Maybe dragons feel that she is uneasy about something. She is worried.

When she gets the rope, she walks back to Jon and Arya who by now just stand sulking, not talking to each other. She hands the rope over to Jon. “Just tie us together.”

“It’s madness,” says Jon quietly but he carefully coils the rope around her waist and around her shoulders, then he does the same to Arya. When he finishes he just sighs deeply and then he looks into her eyes.

“I know,” she says gently to his unspoken plea. He smiles weakly and takes her into his arms. He holds her longer than she expected. Finally she raises her face to him. He looks at her lovingly but then his face changes. “What’s wrong?” he asks anxiously.

“I don’t know,” she replies frankly. “Do Drogon and Rhaegal seem strange to you today?” she finally asks.

He thinks for a moment. “I don’t know them as well as you do. But yes, Rhaegal seemed a little nervous. But I thought that maybe he changed his mind about me. Even if he let me touch him.”

She sighs deeply.

“Maybe we shouldn’t fly them today?” Jon offers.

“No, we should go as we planned,” she says after a while.

He kisses her hard on the lips. “Be safe,” he whispers.

“You too,” she whispers back. He then walks towards Arya and embraces her before planting a long kiss on her forehead. Daenerys is happy to see that Arya hugs him back.

Daenerys then slowly mounts Drogon and when she sits comfortably, Arya repeats her steps.

Daenerys watches her as her eyes get even bigger than they already are. And there is a smile of true happiness on Arya’s face.

She waits for Jon to mount Rhaegal and then she says ‘vlar’ to Drogon. Despite her earlier anxiety, Drogon flies seamlessly. She sighs with relief.

 

**_Jon_ **

Even though he suspects what may happen today, he is happy to see dragons again. He missed them. He walks towards Rhaegal assuredly and unlike the last time, Rhaegal seems to be glad to see him and the first thing Jon does is stroke Rhaegal’s head. Now he understands what Daenerys said to him on Dragonstone. He finally agrees, dragons are beautiful.

“Hullo, old boy,” he says to Rhaegal. The dragon purrs in response and Jon’s heart is filled with exuberant joy. However Rhaegal suddenly whines and looks nervously to the sky. “What is it, Rhaegal?” He put his hand on dragon’s neck and gently strokes him. The beast seems to calm down so Jon walks to Daenerys and Arya.

His good humour disappears very quickly when he sees bow and arrows on Arya. They start to quarrel until Daenerys tells them to stop. The anger still boils in him, especially as Arya does not seem to take the potential danger seriously.

As soon as Daenerys walks away towards the Dothraki, the dispute reignites.

“And what do you think you will be shooting at?” he tries to keep his voice down but his tone is obvious. “This is not a game, Arya.”

“I’m planning to kill some White Walkers or wights. I don’t think it’s a game. Killing is not a game,” replies Arya quickly.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You will be flying. You will be on the dragon who moves, sometimes suddenly changes the direction. You won’t be able to keep yourself steady, I’m not even talking about shooting anything. This is a childish fantasy,” he nearly screams at her.

“I’m not a child anymore,” Arya says icily.

“I’m not saying that.” He tries to calm himself down. “I want you to be safe. I want to protect you…”

“No one can protect me,” interrupts Arya. Jon is stung by it as he is reminded that Sansa told him almost exactly that, too. “I’ve been protecting myself for years. Robb protected his wife and my mother. Where are they now? Little Finger protected Sansa. Look how well that turned out.”

For the first time since they reunited, he sees some real emotion in Arya. It scares him and it breaks his heart at the same time.

“I know,” he says gently. “But I’m here now and I will try to…”

She interrupts him again. “You’re here now but where were you through all those years? Why weren’t you there then to protect me?”

He closes his eyes. That hurts him more than all those stabs he received at Castle Black. He does not know what to say. There is no excuse.

Daenerys comes back with a sturdy looking rope and proposes he ties them up together. He thinks it is a mad idea but concedes. When he finishes, he just looks at the ropes and then at Daenerys. She knows that she is strong but he is afraid that if anything goes wrong he may lose them both. And all he wants is for them to be safe. Daenerys seems to understand his fears. He hugs her closely. He smells her perfume and feels her warmth, he does not want to let her go. She looks at him and one again he catches his breath when he looks at her beautiful face. She is his life, he cannot lose her. But then he notices that she is worried. It appears she also noticed that the dragons behave differently today. Maybe it is a sign that they should abandon the idea. She is determined to try and he agrees with a heavy heart.

He tries to put all his love for her into the kiss.

He hesitates slightly when he walks towards Arya but he takes he into his arms anyway and squeezes her tightly.

“I’m sorry for what I said,” she says quietly into his chest. “I really didn’t mean it. I just got angry.”

“It’s all right, it’s all right,” he whispers. “I’m sorry too.”

 

**_Daenerys_ **

She follows Rhaegal for a change as Jon knows better where Last Hearth actually is. They fly over wide, empty fields covered with snow. There are not many villages on the way but each one they pass is empty, there is no sign of life anywhere. She just hopes that the villages are deserted because the people fled but deep down she is afraid that they might have joined the Army of the Dead.

From time to time she looks behind her to check on Arya. The girl is silent but her face says it all. She is so glad that she made Arya happy, if only for a short moment.

Then they see what she can only presume remained of Last Hearth. Burned ruins. She closes her eyes in despair as such massive burning, melting stones into nothing could only come from a dragon. If the Night King comes to Winterfell, there is no other line of defence but her children. The thought of a potential fight between Drogon and Rhaegal against Viserion breaks her heart.

As the dragons are circling over the remnants, she meets Jon’s gaze. There is no need for words, they understand each other.

Then her eyes are drawn to a group of riders on the Kingsroad, coming from the northern direction. Without thinking, she urges Drogon to fly closer to them. Jon follows her on Rhaegal.

As they come closer, she hears Arya loud voice, “They don’t look dead,” She has to agree as Drogon flies even lower over them. Most of them cower at the sight of dragon and their horses are spooked, but she seems to recognise one of them as the Wildling man that she saved when she went beyond the Wall. Then she hears Jon screaming something at her, it is too far to understand the words, so she tells Drogon to get nearer to Rhaegal.

“Go back to Winterfell,” cries Jon. “I’ll talk to them.”

She nods and Drogon turns without her even giving him a command. After a while, she feels that Drogon is agitated again, she feels pain, anger which she does not understand. Is Drogon unhappy going back to Winterfell, or is it about leaving Rhaegal behind?

Then suddenly she seems to understand, as they are flying over the Kingsroad, she can see a group of what it can only be dead men, misshapen figures are walking slowly along it. It is not as big a group as she saw beyond the Wall, she thinks it is about three or four hundred of wights led by a single White Walker on a dead horse.

Drogon roars menacingly, his roar reverberates through her entire body.

“Hold on tight,” she cries to Arya and Drogon dives down to get closer to the wights. “Dracarys,” she says and Drogon spits a stream of fire at the back of the group. She circles the group and even without command Drogon repeats his deadly attack, again taking out the substantial portion of wights. But then she hears a piercing sound coming from afar, it is nothing like dragon’s roar but somehow it sounds strangely familiar. A shiver goes through her body.  Drogon roars again and she nervously looks around. The uncertainty of the situation unnerves her. Then she sees something on the horizon, it is coming towards her very quickly.

She is afraid and now bitterly regrets taking Arya with her. ‘I put her in danger,’ she tells herself guiltily. Jon was right. But she has no time to debate the issue with herself, as she recognises the unmistakable shape of Viserion and her heart goes cold. He is much quicker than she remembers and for a second she notices that his wings seem to be full of holes. She would cry at the sight if she had time. But she steels herself as she knows that she has to face him and do everything in her power to destroy him. This time for good.

Drogon roars again but this time she hears a pain in his voice. She understands that he is as heartbroken as she is.

Drogon suddenly dives sharply to the right and she sees a stream of strange blue fire over her head. She is stupefied but still has some clarity in her head to look behind her to check if Arya is still there. Arya’s big eyes focused on Viserion is all she notices.

Drogon spits fire towards Viserion but the stream misses the dragon. ‘He’s quicker than before,’ she tells herself almost in disbelief. But then she hears Rhaegal’s roar and she is relieved and worried at the same time.

Both Drogon and Rhaegal are spitting fire towards Viserion. ‘Should I even call him that?’ she asks herself. It is not Viserion now. It is some monster created by the Night King. He is not her baby anymore.

The blue fire stream shots in Jon’s direction but fortunately Rhaegal does a sharp turn as Drogon did before. Drogon spits fire at Viserion and this time the fire seems to graze over Viserion’s body and his left wing. The piercing shriek that escapes the wounded dragon is like a cold stab to her heart.

Viserion’s flight falters and he has problems staying up, she observes almost like in a trance how the Night King tries to keep steady on the dragon. Finally Viserion flight gets more stable, the Night King turns his head towards her and she meets his cold blue stare. She hopes that he can see the hate that is boiling inside her. Then he turns his head back and Viserion flies away, but slower than before. She looks at Jon and their eyes meet.

Then, in the corner of her eye, she notices a movement behind her. Arya is sitting up and aiming her bow at something on the ground, after a moment she lets out the arrow. Daenerys tries to follow the arrow. And to her delight, the arrow hits the White Walker in the back and then he shatters to pieces. Daenerys gasps but she notices as almost half of wights that were still walking falls down to the ground lifeless. She smiles to herself and says ‘dracarys’.

 

**_Jon_ **

‘It’s my fault,’ he tells himself as he looks down on the burned out ruins of what once had been Last Hearth. His duty was to protect them and now they are gone. He got distracted and now there are no more Umbers. He is angry. What is worse, the melted stones mean just one thing – dragon fire. He looks at Daenerys and he reads from her face that she realised that too. On top of being angry, he feels guilty now. She never reproached him but she lost one of her children because of him. She is a much better person than him, as after all this she still is able to love him. He is not sure of he would behave like that. He does not know how it feels to lose a child but he lost some people that were very close to him and he can only imagine how she felt. Olly killed Ygritte in front of him but he partially understood why he did that. But as much as he tried he did not feel that close to Olly after that as before. And as for Ramsey Bolton and Rickon… well, at least that part was clear.

He notices Daenerys looking intently into the distance and he follows her gaze. It seems like a group of riders, most of them wearing black cloaks so well known to him. They seem to be alive rather than wights or even White Walkers. He is almost sure he recognises Edd and definitely sure that one of the riders is Tormund. He would not mistake him for anyone.

“Daenerys,” he yells in her direction. “Fly back to Winterfell, I’ll deal with them.” It looks like she did not understand him so he yells at her again, she nods and they fly away.

“Come on, Rhaegal,” he tells the dragon. “Let’s meet my friends.” He could almost smile at the fear Rhaegal causes among the riders and their horses if he was not reminded of his own reaction when he first saw dragons. Only Tormund smiles, relaxed , looking with almost a disdain at the others. Rhaegal lands and he dismounts quickly and almost runs to his friends. He greets everyone with a hug.

“You’re riding dragons now?” asks Tormund.

Jon smiles sheepishly. “A couple of things changed since we last saw each other.”

“You can say it again. The fucking Wall fell down.” He stops and shakes his head. “And the Dragon Queen?” asks Tormund again after a while.

“She is fine,” Jon pauses for a moment. “She’s my wife now.” He gives Tormund a small smile.

“Smart lad,” Tormund pats Jon on his back. “And she lets you ride the dragon!” he laughs uproariously at his own witticism. Jon is now afraid that he may blush. “And the big woman?” Tormund’s face is suddenly serious.

“She’s safe at Winterfell,” Jon replies smiling.

“Now we both have something to look up to, eh?” Tormund laughs again.

“No wonder that you don’t want to come back to the Night’s Watch,” says Edd tersely. “I’d do the same… if anyone offered.”

“Why are you here?” asks Jon to cover his embarrassment as Tormund is still chuckling. “You abandoned Castle Black?”

Edd sighs deeply. “When we found out that Eastwatch was gone and the White Walkers crossed the Wall, there was no point of staying there.” Edd pauses. “I just hope no one will behead me for this.” He looks at Jon and smiles. “I’ll ask the King in the North for mercy.”

Jon smiles back at his friend. “Is that everyone from Castle Black?” he asks looking around. There are no more than fifty men. Edd nods thoughtfully.

“Our fight is here now,” says Beric Dondarrion and looks intensely into Jon’s eyes.

Suddenly they hear the distant roar and Rhaegal roars as if in response. Something is wrong. Jon quickly turns and runs back to mount Rhaegal. “Ride for Winterfell!” he yells to the men he left behind without turning his head. “We need you there!”

As they fly, Jon tries to see what it is before them. His heart is cold with fear. Daenerys! Arya! He should not have let them fly alone. He cannot lose them both. Not now.

His heart almost stops when he sees Viserion and the Night King. He gasps when he sees that Viserion breathes blue fire. ‘What does it even mean?’ he asks himself. He is relieved to see that Viserion either missed or smart move of Drogon saved them. ‘Smart Drogon,’ he tells himself.

Without thinking he says what Daenerys taught him. “Dracarys!” Rhaegal complies without delay.

 

**_Daenerys_ **

“Where is the King?” Lord Glover, walking briskly in her direction, yells at her with all the hatred he can muster. “You left him to die?”

Before she can reply, Arya steps in front of her with her dagger out. “I think it’s high time to teach you what respect means, Lord Glover,” she says in a menacing tone. Again Daenerys is prevented from reacting as the huge shape passes her quickly, Ghost jumps at Lord Glover and pushes him to the ground with a great thud. The huge head of the beast hangs threateningly over the frightened man and growls make it even more scary if it is even possible. Glover screams in panic but he does not move, and there is a huge gathering in the courtyard observing the scene, yet no one moves a muscle to help the man. Daenerys slowly takes a place beside Arya, she places her hand gently on the girl’s arm.  “Lord Glover, isn’t it?” she asks rhetorically in a cold voice.  “I’m tired of your hate,” she continues in a calm voice. “Let it be your second warning. There will be no third one.” She looks at Glover intensely for a couple of seconds more. “Stand down, Ghost,” she finally says and walks by without giving Glover a second glance.

Sansa and Lady Brienne are running down the stairs towards them.

“Your Grace, Arya” she hugs them both quickly. “I’m so glad that you’re both safe.” And then adds quickly, “Where’s Jon?”

“He’s coming. He stopped to talk to the army commanders,” Daenerys replies. She feels tired and she struggles to keep her regal poise.

“Any news, Your Grace?” asks Lady Brienne, slightly bowing.

“Last Hearth is truly gone. We didn’t see any survivors,” she replies calmly. “We managed to destroy a small portion of wights on our way back. But I’m afraid that most of them are coming in this direction.” She watches as Sansa’s eyes widen with fear. Brienne only nods.

“When?” asks Sansa, catching her breath.

“Jon thinks they may reach us in a couple of days,” she replies and sighs deeply. They stand together in silence for a long while. Daenerys looks towards the setting sun and shivers slightly.

That stirs Sansa into action. “You must be freezing to death and you’re probably starving,” she says. “I’ll arrange hot baths and supper sent to your rooms,” Sansa smiles shyly and lead them inside.

In the corridor Daenerys stops Arya gently by putting her hand on her arm again. “Arya,” she looks into the girl’s big eyes. “I’m sorry that I put you into danger… but I’m also glad that you were there.” She smiles at her but Arya only nods quickly. “And that shot was magnificent,” she adds quietly. “Jon always said that you were the best shot of the whole family.” She is finally rewarded as Arya’s impassive face breaks into a sincere smile.

When she finally reaches her room, she only wants to lie on her bed but is grateful that Missandei is here to help her out of her clothes.

 

**_Jon_ **

He is tired. Tired of talking, planning, worrying. And feeling guilty. But he smiles to himself as he recalls meeting Edd and Tormund. It is a bright spot in this gloomy day. Wait, there is a second one. Arya shooting down the White Walker. He was so proud of her, he must congratulate her tomorrow. He really needs to spend more time with her. She grew up into that silent, thoughtful, stealthy girl full of secrets. Their quarrel earlier today is still painful to recall.

As he walks down the corridor he sees a familiar shape in front of Daenerys’s room, or their room rather.

“What are you doing here, boy?” he asks Ghost as he squats near him to stroke his head. “Daenerys made you leave? What did you do?” He smiles as Ghost quietly whimpers. “I’ll put in a good word for you.” He straightens up and enters the room. Now, that is a vision he did not expect. There is an enormous bathtub in front of the fireplace, the steam is coming out of it and Daenerys is lying in it with a blissful smile on her beautiful face. As per tradition he takes his breath away.

“Where did you find this monster of a tub?” he asks bewildered by the size of it.

She opens her eyes slowly. “Sansa send it to us. Apparently it was especially made for king Robert’s visit,” she replies with a smile. “Was he a huge man?”

He smiles. “Of sorts.”

He comes closer, kneels and places a tender kiss on her warm and wet lips. She purrs into his mouth and puts her arms around his neck. He deepens the kiss, but then he moves slightly away. He looks deeply into her eyes. “I’m guessing you need some help with washing yourself?” he asks in a deep voice.

She smiles teasingly, “Only if it is the right help.”

He stands up. “We shall see then.” He starts to take off his fur coat and only then notices Missandei standing by the table in the corner of the room. He is flustered now but Missandei bows and smiles gently. “Your Grace, you may need to add some cold water as our queen is used to a very hot bath that may not be to your liking.” She points behind her. “This jug is full of cold water.”

He nods but he is too embarrassed to reply. “The supper is laid out on the table.” Missandei adds, bows again and goes out of the room.

“You were blushing,” says Daenerys laughingly when they are alone.

“I was not,” he replies stubbornly. “I was just surprised to find her there.” He is grateful that Daenerys chooses not to comment further. “Now I know why Ghost preferred to stay outside the room. When he was a pup it was impossible to give him a bath,” he talks quickly to change the subject as soon as possible.

“Oh, just get out of your clothes and come to me already,” says Daenerys in mock impatience. “I need your hands and lips here,” she adds breathily in a most tantalising to his ears voice. “And Missandei was right, take this jug with you,” she smiles.

He tries to get rid of his clothes as quickly as possible. “Only lips and hands?” he asks. “What about the rest of me?”

“You’re right. I was wrong,” she says quietly. “I need every part of you,” she adds in a whisper.

He looks at her at this, trying to convey through his eyes the depth of his love for her. And he knows that the gods are smiling at him tonight.


End file.
